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DMA.  3^ 
Section        /0  5  5 


cr? 


■A,**-  ; 


SACRED    POETRY. 


,  DEC  14  1935 

M  I'll  tune  my  harp,  I'll  strike  its  wires, 

My  Savior's  praise  «K«a&fy,p .  p     . 


"  His  love  refines  my  warmes><fi£gs^ 
"  And  keeps  my  heart  unshaken. 

"  And  thus  melodious  chords  arise, 
"And  tone  my  feelings  for  the  skies." 


FIRST   AMERICAN, 
PROM   THE   THIRTEENTH   ENGLISH    EDITION. 


NEW- YORK: 
LEAVITT,    LORD,    &.    CO. 

BOSTON  :    CROCKER   &    RREW9TER 


1836. 


D,  Fanshaw,  Pi  inter. 


PREFACE. 


Experience  has  amply  refuted  Dr.  John- 
son's observation,  that  Devotional  Poetry  is 
always  unsatisfactory  ;  an  assertion  which 
that  illustrious  writer  would  not  have  ha- 
zarded, had  he  studied  more  closely  the  sub- 
lime poetry  of  Scripture.  The  high-toned 
piety  of  a  Cowper  and  a  Montgomery  has 
given  to  their  verses  a  charm  and  an  eleva- 
tion which  is  generally  felt  and  acknowledg- 
ed; and  so  decidedly  has  the  public  taste 
declared  itself  in  favour  of  employing  poetry 
as  the  handmaid  of  religion,  that  the  most 
eminent  poets  of  the  present  day  have  all, 
in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  applied  their 
powers  to  this  department  of  their  art. 

There  are,  indeed,  many,  whose  hopes 
are  bounded  by  this  present  world,  who  en- 
deavour to  lull  the  voice  of  conscience,  and 
are  not  disposed  to  lay  to  heart  the  great  an^ 
momentous  concerns  of  eternity.  Such  per- 
sons may,  no  doubt,  dislike  Sacred  Poetry, 
especially  when  it  embodies  Scriptural  sen- 


IV  PREFACE. 

timent.  The  natural  opposition  of  the  hu- 
man mind  to  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,  will 
excite  their  disgust  against  evangelical  to- 
pics, in  whatever  dress  they  are  presented  ; 
but  we  are  not,  on  this  account,  to  deprive 
others  of  the  pleasure  and  benefit  ^vhich  the 
contemplation  of  the  divine  character  is  fitted 
to  bestow  ;  or  to  neglect  a  mode  of  raising 
the  mind  to  God,  which  is  sanctioned  by 
the  example  of  inspiration,  while  its  advan- 
tages have  been  experienced  by  believers  in 
every  age. 

But,  amidst  all  the  natural  alienation  of 
the  human  mind  from  God,  there  is,  in 
every  breast,  a  monitor  which  testifies  against 
ungodliness  and  irreligion.  Its  voice  may  be 
drowned  amidst  the  din  of  dissipation  or  the 
bustle  of  worldly  pursuits,  but  sometimes  it 
must  be  heard  :  and  as  the  harp  of  the  son 
of  Jesse  calmed  the  troubled  mind  of  Saul, 
so  the  voice  of  truth,  clothed  in  a  garb  pe- 
culiarly congenial  to  the  feelings  of  the  hu- 
man heart,  is  eminently  calculated  to  break 
the  spell  by  which  the  deluded  children  of 
Adam  are  bound,  and  to  lead  them  to  that 
inexhaustible  fountain  which  the  rich  mercv 
of  God  has  opened  for  fallen  man. 


INDEX  OF  FIRST  LINES. 


*» 


A  cloud  lay  cradled  near  the  setting  ran 

A  debtor  to  mercy  alone           .             .  245 
Adieu,  beloved  friend  adieu        .           .          .14 

Ah  me !  these  youthful  bearers  rob'd  in  white  302 

Ah  !  when  did  wisdom  covet  length  of  days    .  283 

Ah  !  why  should  this  immortal  mind       .       .  68 

Ah  !  why  this  disconsolate  frame           .           .  134 

And  is  there  care  in  heaven  ?  and  is  there  love  195 

Around  Bethesda's  healing  wave            .          .  210 

A  saint !  oh  would  that  I  could  claim    .  36 J 

As  pants  the  wearied  hart  for  cooling  springs  36) 

As  some  lone  captive  on  a  foreign  shore           .  281 

As  when  a  child,  secure  of  harms           .           .  361 

A  voice  comes  from  Ramah,  a  voice  of  despair  269 

Awake,  my  soul,  in  joyful  lays               .           .  314 

Awake,  sweet  harp  of  Judah,  wake       .          .  .63 

Blame  not  the  monumental  stone  we  raise       .  288 

Blessed  be  thy  name  for  ever                 .           .  33 

Bound  upon  the  accursed  tree    ...  7* 

Breathe  thoughts  of  pity  o'er  a  brother's  fall    .  146 

Brightest  and  best  of  the  sons  of  the  morning  36 

Brother,  thou  art  gone  before  us           .           .  303 

By  the  rivers  of  waters  where  Babylon  dwells  297 

Calm  on  the  bosom  of  thy  God              .          .  332 

"  Cease  here  longer  to  detain  me"           .          .  130 

"  Child  of  Man,  whose  seed  below"       .          .  291 

Child  of  sorrow,  lend  thine  ear  337 


VI  INDEX. 


Page 

Children  of  God,  who,  pacing  slow,           i        .  U7 

Come,  holy  Spirit,  calm  my  mind           •  .  320 

Come  let  us  join  our  cheerful  songs       .  .  13 

Come  let  us  join  our  friends  above       .  .  296 

Come,  my  fond  fluttering  heart            .  .  252 

Come,  O  Jesus  !  strong  to  save  .  204 

Contemplate,  when  the  sun  declines       .  .  342 

Dark  river  of  death  that  is  flowing       .  .  255 

Dear  as  thou  wert,  and  justly  dear         .  .  364 

Dear  is  the  hallow'd  morn  to  me           .  .  122 

Deathless  principle,  arise !  .  .76 

Death's  but  a  path  that  must  be  trod  .  207 

Delusive  world — farewell              .                     .  253 

Deserted  by  each  faithless  Friend          .  .  62 

Enthroned  upon  a  hill  of  light              .  .  53 

Ere  yet  the  ev'ning  star,  with  silver  ray  .  306 

Even  thus  amid  thy  pride  and  luxury  .  240 

Fain,  O  my  child,  I'd  have  thee  know  .  344 

Farewell  thou  vase  of  splendour           .  .  189 

Far  from  the  world,  O  Lord  !  I  flee  .  91 

"  Feed  my  Lambs,"  'twas  kindly  spoken  .  277 

Fierce  passions  discompose  the  mind  .  138 

Forgive,  blest  shade,  the  tributary  tear  .  28 

For  me !  was  it  rightly  I  heard  ?           .  .  339 

For  thou  wert  born  of  woman ;  thou  didst  come  225 
For  what  shall  I  praise  thee,  my  God  and  my  King  ?  300 

Friend  after  friend  departs           .       .  .  267 

From  Greenland's  icy  mountains           .            .  322 

God  moves  in  a  mysterious  way           .  .  149 

God  of  my  life,  to  thee  I  call             .  .  271 

God  of  my  life,  whose  gracious  power  .  372 

Grace  does  not  steel  the  faithful  heart  •  262 

Grief  for  the  dead,  what  heart  can  e'er  reprove  147 

Hail  sov'reign  love  that  first  began       ,  :  281 


INDEX.  VII 

Page 

Hail!  the  heavenly  scenes  of  peace  .  I!)9 
Happiness,  thou  lovely  name              .            .152 

Hark,  a  voice,  it  cries  from  heav'n                  •  105 

Hark  !  universal  Nature  shook  and  groan'd   .  277 

Harps  of  eternity  !  begin  the  song                  .  22!) 

He  cometh,  he  cometh,  the  Lord  passeth  by  !).» 

He  is  the  freeman  whom  the  truth  makes  free  27?) 

He  lives,  who  lives  to  God  alone          .  25 

He  who  sits,  from  day  to  day              .           .  78 

High  in  yonder  realms  of  light  .  .  132 
Hope,  with  uplifted  foot,  set  free  from  earth    .    275 

How  blest  is  the  Christian,  bereft                .  155 

How  blest  the  sacred  tie  that  binds  .  18K 
How  cheering  the  thought,  that  the  spirits  in  bliss  345 
How  fine  has  the  day  been,  how  bright  was  the  sun  202 

How  long  the  time  since  Christ  began           .  353 

How  sweetly  parts  the  Christian  sun            .  112 

How  tedious  and  tasteless  the  hours            .  26<i 

If  ever  it  could  come  to  pass              .           .  64 

If  human  kindness  meets  return       ■           .  85 

I  heard  thee— not  the  seraph's  strain            .  24 

I  hear  thee  speak  of  the  better  land              .  157 

I  love  the  sacred  book  of  God              .       .  4"'* 

I  love  to  think  of  heaven,  where  I  shall  meet  44 

I'm  going  to  leave  all  my  sadness                 .  15« 

In  a  dream  of  the  night  I  was  wafted  away  81 

Incarnate  God  !  the  soul  that  knows            .  8!) 

In  evil  long  I  took  delight              .              .  20 

In  heart  divided,  and  in  spirit  rent              .  214 

In  search  of  enjoyment  I  wander'd  in  vain  218 

Inspirer  and  Hearer  of  prayer  .  .  I  If) 
Interval  of  grateful  shade 

In  trouble  and  in  grief,  O  God               .        .  86 

I  prais'd  the  earth  in  beauty  seen        .         .  148 

I  quit  the  world's  fantastic  joys            .        .  114 

Is  there  a  time  when  moments  flow              .  123 

It  happen'd  on  a  solemn  eventide                  .  232 

It  matters  little  at  what  hour  o'  the  day        •  Wfi 

It  thunders !  sons  of  dust  in  rev'rence  bow    ,  242 


V1U 


INDEX. 


Jesus,  I  cast  my  soul  on  thee   . 
Jesus,  I  my  cross  have  taken     - 
Jesus,  thy  blood  and  righteousness 
Joy  is  a  fruit  that  will  not  grow         • 

Kindred  in  Christ,  for  his  dear  sake 
Knell  of  departed  years  .,  « 

Let  no  prond  stone  with  sculptured  virtues 

Let  reason  vainly  boast  her  power 

Let  the  proud  veil  of  darkness  be  roll'd  from 

fore  thee 
Lift  up  your  eyes  of  faith  and  see 
Like  crowded  forest  trees  we  stand 
-rong  plung/d  in  sorrow,  I  resign 
Lord,  I  believe  a  rest  remains 
Lord  of  the  Sabbath,  hear  our  vows 
Lord,  when  we  bend  before  thy  throne 

Man  like  a  flower  at  mom  appears 
Mark  where  the  wave,  at  eventide 
May  he  who  erst  on  Calvary  bled 
Methinks  it  js  good  to  be  here 
My  father  knows  my  feeb»e  frame 
My  God,  all  nature  owns  thy  sway 
My  God  T  now  from  sleep  awake 
My  song  shall  bless  the  Lord  of  all 


Page 

231 

139 

235 

18 

48 
201 

342 
113 


be- 


173 

167 
22 

154 
41 


29 
107 
363 


294 

354 

17 


No  longer  I  follow  a  sound  ...       37 

Nor  for  thee,  nor  for  me,  was  earth's  valley  decreed  97 
No !  think  not  I  can  ever  be  45 

Not  seldom,  clad  in  radiant  vest  .       •       194 

Now  let  our  souls  on  wings  sublime         .  183 

Now  let  us  join  with  hearts  and  tongues        .       170 


O  child  of  sorrow,  be  it  thine  to  know 
Of  all  my  race  there  breathes  not  one 
Of  life's  past  woes  the  fading  trace 
Often  the  clouds  of  deepest  woe 
*J  God  !  my  heart  within  me  faint* 


128 
142 
166 
145 


INDEX. 


Page 

O  grieve  not  for  him  with  wildness  of  sorrow  163 

Oh  !  child  of  grief,  why  weepest  thou           .  !3f> 

Oh  !  for  a  closer  walk  with  God           .           .  Htf 

Oh  !  for  a  glance  of  heavenly  day        .          .  329 
Oh  !  long  is  that  life  which  endeavours  to  measure  221 

Oh!  never,  never  canst  thou  know       .         .  191 

O  how  unlike  the  complex  works  of  man       .  246 
Oh !  sweet  is  mom's  first  breeze  that  strays  on  the 

mountain        .                  ...  124 

Oh !  that  in  unfetter'd  union                .          .  H7 

Oh  !  thou  that  dwellest  in  the  heavens  so  high  44 

Oh  thou  whose  mercy  guides  my  way            .  23 

Oh  !  weep  for  those  that  wept  by  Babel's  stream  103 

Oh  !  weep  not  for  the  joys  that  fade     .          .  2(H) 

O  Lord,  anotner  day  is  flown               .          .  65 
O  Lord  my  Goa  19  mercy  turn            .           .15 

O  Jnay  thy  angels,  while  a  sleep            .           .  203 

O  most  delightful  hour  by  man            .           .  23 

One  glance  of  thine,  eternal  Lord        .          .  234 

On  this  labour  of  love  may  a  blessing  attend  184 

O  Salem !  who,  in  proud  disdain          .          .  28 

O  tell  me  no  more           .        .              .           .  212 

O  think  that,  while  you're  weeping  here         .  162 

O  thou  by  long  experience  tried          .           .  181 

O  thou !  on  earth  beloved,  adored       .          .  364 

Our  earthly  ties  are  weak          ...  192 

Our  Father  sits  on  yonder  throne        .           .  58 

O  weep  not  o'er  thy  children's  tomb               .  224 

O  Zion!  afflicted  with  wave  upon  wave         .  257 

Parting  soul !  the  floods  await  thee      .          .  176 

Peace  has  unveil'd  her  smiling  face      .          .  357 

Pilgrim,  burden'd  with  thy  sin            .          .  255 

"Poor  and  afflicted,"  Lord,  are  thine            .  311 

Prayer  is  the  soul's  sincere  desire        .          .  59 

Pray'r  was  appointed  to  convey           .          .  310 

Reflected  on  the  lake,  I  love        .  .360 

Remember  thee !  Remember  Christ  I             .  319 

Return,  my  roving  heart,  return         ,  US 


INDEX. 


Page 

Rise,  my  soul,  and  stretch  thy  wings              .  318 

Rock  of  ages,  cleft  for  me!        •          •           •  106 

Sad  Pilgrim  of  Zion,  tho'  chastened  a  while  275 

Saviour,  when  in  dust  to  thee              .           .  343 

Say  who  are  these  array'd  in  white      .           .  280 

Say  why  should  friendship  grieve  for  those  177 

See  the  leaves  around  us  falling            .           .  357 
Servant  of  God,  well  done !           .                   .348 

Shall  mortal  man,  a  child  of  earth       .           •  39 
Sleep!  and  whileslumberweighs  thine  eyelidsdown  172 

Soon  will  the  toilsome  strife  be  o'er       .         .  135 

Spar'd  through  grace  another  year         .         .  171 

Spirit— leave  thine  house  of  clay           .          .  328 

Star  of  the  morn,  whose  placid  ray        .          .  308 

Sweet  babe,  she  glanced  into  our  world  to  see  182 

Sweet  bird  again  that  plaintive  strain            .  290 

Sweet  harp  of  Judah !  shall  thy  sound           .  101 

Sweet  is  the  work,  my  God  !  my  king !         .  375 

Thankless  for  favours  from  on  high  26 

That  awful  hour  will  soon  appear         .        .  38 

The  Assyrian  came  down  like  a  wolf  on  the  fold  99 

The  billows  swell,  the  winds  are  high             .  347 

The  chariot !  the  chariot!  its  wheels  roll  in  fire  373 

The  countless  multitude  on  high       .           .  312 
The  festal  morn,  my  God,  is  come 
The  God  of  nature  and  of  grace 
The  golden  palace  of  my  God 
The  grave  is  not  a  place  of  rest 
The  Lord  our  God  is  full  of  might 

The  Lord  shall  come,  the  earth  shall  quake  371 

The  morning  flow'rs  display  their  sweets       .  293 

The  path  of  sorrow,  and  that  path  alone       .  42 

There  is  a  calm  for  those  who  weep        .        .  247 

There  is  a  family  on  earth               .               .  54 

There  is  a  fountain  filled  with  blood             .  19 

There  is  an  hour  of  peaceful  rest        .           .  61 

There  is  a  pure  and  peaceful  wave       .        •  309 

v  here  is  a  secret  in  the  ways  of  God              .  35 


INDEX. 


ihere  is  a  spot,  a  lovely  spot  .  ,  .  197 
There  is  a  thought,  can  litt  the  soul  47 
The  Saviour  to  glory  is  gone  ...  16 
The  scene  was  more  beautiful  far  to  my  eye  2<  5 
The  seas  are  quiet  when  the  winds  are  o'er  .  264 
These  eyes  that  were  half  clos'd  in  death  "  2/0 
These  hearts,  alas  !  cleave  to  the  dust  .  85 
The  sun  parts  faintly  from  the  wave  .  151 
The  wing  of  time  has  brush'd  away  .  .  237 
They  sin  who  tell  us  love  can  die  .  .  359 
Tho' troubles  assail,  and  dangers  affright  .  272 
Thou  art  gone  to  the  grav  e— but  we  will  not  de- 
plore thee  ...  .  219 
Though  the  heart  that  sorrow  chideth  .  .  268 
Thou  soft  flowing  Kedron,  by  thy  silver  stream  126 
Thou,  who  didst  lor  Peter's  faith  .  .  349 
Through  shades  and  solitudes  profound  .  93 
Through  sorrow's  night  and  danger's  path  236 
Thus  far  on  life's  perplexing  path  .  .  324 
'Tis  but  one  family,  the  sound  is  balm  .  307 
'Tis  night,  and  the  landscape  is  lovely  no  more  333 
'Tis  sweet  when  cloudless  suns  arise  .  244 
To  honour  those  who  gave  us  birth  .  .  31 
To  Jesus,  the  crown  of  my  hope  .  .  73 
To  mark,  the  sufferings  of  the  babe  .  .  338 
Triumphal  arch,  that  fill'st  the  sky  .  .  315 
True  charity,  a  plant  divinely  nurs'd  .  369 
True  happiness  is  not  the  growth  of  earth  .  193 
'Twas  when  the  sea's  tremendous  roar    .       .  366 

Upon  my  father's  new  closed  grave          .       .  129 

Vital  spark  of  heavenly  flame          .               .  330- 

We  sing  the  praise  of  him  who  died        .       .  Ill 

Whatever  passes  as  a  cloud  between     .           .  274 

What  though  my  frail  eyelids  refuse    .           ■  109 

What  various  hindrances  we  meet      .           .  305 

When  a  believer  yields  his  breath          .       .  6l 

When  constant  Faith  and  holy  Hope  shall  die  301 


Xll  INDEX. 


When  darkly  to  the  eye  of  truth        .          •  92 

Whene  er  thou  view'st  thy  darling  nigh        .  346 
Whenfaithand  love,  which  parted  fromtheenever  289 

When  gathering  clouds  around  I  view           .  79 

When  I  consider  how  my  light  is  spent         .  259 

When  in  dark  and  dreadful  gloom                  .  239 

When  In  the  hours  of  lonely  woe        .          .  115 

When  Israel,  of  the  Lord  belov'd       .           .  98 

When  Jordan  hush'd  his  waters  still              •  104 

When  languid  nature,  in  deep  fever  burning  283 

When  languor  and  disease  invade       .  i  69 

When  marshalled  on  the  nightly  plain          .  67 

When  musing  sorrow  weeps  the  past    .           .  50 
When  one  who  holds  communion  with  the  skies    194 

When  on  Sinai's  top  I  see           .           .  228 

When  pining  sickness  wastes  the  frame         .  34 

When  restless  on  my  bed  I  lie               .  178 

When  the  spark  of  life  is  waning        .           .  341 

When  those  dark  hours  of  earthly  love           .  317 
When  through  the  torn  sail  the  wild  tempest  is 

streaming              .                         .  356 

Where  high  the  heavenly  temple  stands       .  175 
Where  then  shall  hope  and  fear  their  objects  find  ?  331 

Which  is  the  happiest  death  to  die  ?             .  334 

While  some  despise  all  self-control       .         .  179 
Whoe'er,  like  me,  with  trembling  anguish  brings  287 

Why  then  in  sad  and  wintry  time       .           .  376 

Winter  has  a  joy  for  me          .          .           .  66 

Ye  angels  who  stand  round  the  throne          .  71 

Ye  hearts  with  youthful  vigour  warm          .  41 

Yes,  love  indeea  is  light  from  heaven          .  362 

Ves  !  we  must  all  be  changed  by  death  264 

Your  harps,  ye  trembling  saints          .  358 


SACRED  POETRY 


1.  THE  LAMB  OF  GOD  WORSHIPPED 
BY  ALL  THE  CREATION. 


1  Come  let  us  join  our  cheerful  songs 

With  angels  round  the  throne ; 
Ten  thousand  thousand  are  their  tongues, 
But  all  their  joys  are  one. 

2  "  Worthy  the  Lamb  that  died,"  they  cry, 

"  To  be  exalted  thus  ;" 
"  Worthy  the  Lamb,"  our  lips  reply, 
"For  he  was  slain  for  us." 

3  Jesus  is  worthy  to  receive 

Honour  and  power  divine  ; 
And  blessings  more  than  we  can  give, 
Be,  Lord,  for  ever  thine. 

4  Let  all  that  dwell  above  the  sky, 

And  air,  and  earth,  and  seas, 
Conspire  to  lift  thy  glories  high, 
And  speak  thine  endless  praise 


u 


SACKED  POETRY. 


6  The  whole  creation  join  in  one 
To  bless  the  sacred  name 
Of  hin-  ihf.l  s'ts  upon  the  throne, 
And  to  adore  the  Lamb. 

watts. 


THE    CHRISTIAN    FRIENDS 
FAREWELL. 


Adieu,  beloved  friend  adieu, 
On  earth  we  only  meet  to  part ; 
Yet  to  the  Christian's  brighter  view 
Still  we  are  one,  still  near  in  heart. 
That  "  three-fold  cord"  of  Christian  love, 
Which  from  the  heights  of  heaven  descends, 
When  parted  here  is  join'd  above, 
And  holds  to  Christ  and  Christian  friends. 
And  when  we  part,  the  throne  of  grace 
Shall  be  our  centre  and  retreat ; 
Though  distant  far,  at  that  bright  place, 
We  still  may  hold  communion  sweet. 
Prayer  shall  a  vast  triangle  form, 
On  whose  wide  base  we  still  can  meet  ; 
And  whose  bright  top  surmounts  each  storm, 
And  joins  us  at  our  Saviour's  feet. 


SACRED  POETRY.  15 

And  should  the  stream  of  death  divide 
Our  souls  a  moment  on  its  shore  ; 
They  part  to  meet,  they  join  to  abide 
Where  pain  and  parting  are  no  more- 

ANON. 


3.  CONFESSION. 


1  O  Lord  my  God,  in  mercy  turn, 
In  mercy  hear  a  sinner  mourn ! 
To  thee  I  call,  to  thee  I  cry, 

O  leave  me,  leave  me  not  to  die  ! 

2  O  pleasures  past,  what  are  ye  now 
But  thorns  about  my  bleeding  brow  ; 
Spectres  that  hover  round  my  brain, 
And  aggravate  and  mock  my  pain. 

3  For  pleasure  I  have  given  my  soul ; 
Now,  justice,  let  thy  thunders  roll ; 
Now  vengeance  smile — and  with  a  blow 
Lay  the  rebellious  ingrate  low. 

I  Yet  Jesus,  Jesus  !  there  I'll  cling, 
I'll  crouch  beneath  his  sheltering  wing ; 
I'll  clasp  the  cross,  and,  holding  there, 
Even  me,  oh  bliss  !  his  love  may  spare. 

K.   K.  WHITJE. 


16  SACRED     POETRY. 

4.  ASCENSION. 

1  The  Saviour  to  glory  is  gone, 

His  sufferings  and  sorrows  are  past, 
His  work  is  completed  and  done ; 
And  shall  to  eternity  last. 

2  For  ever  he  lives  to  bestow 

The  blessings  he  purchased  so  dear, 
Our  bosoms  with  gratitude  glow, 

Whilst  to  him  by  faith  we  draw  near. 

3  Expecting  from  him  to  receive 

All  fulness  of  glory  and  grace, 
Rejoicing  in  hope  we  believe, 
His  promises  thankful  embrace. 

4  Our  King  shall  protect  us  from  harm, 

Our  advocate  make  our  plea  good, 
Our  shepherd  will  bear  in  his  arms 
The  sheep  which  he  bought  with  his 
blood. 

5  Our  Prophet  will  point  out  the  way 

Which  leads  to  the  mansions  above  ; 
Our  Priest  all  our  ransom  shall  pay, 
Our  Friend  of  unchangeable  love. 

6  But  whilst  to  the  Lamb  on  his  throne 

Our  hearts  and  our  voices  we  raise, 
His  glory  exalted  we  own 

Above  all  our  blessings  and  praise. 

anon.  ' 


SACRED  POETRY.  17 


5.  JEHOVAH  JESUS. 


1  My  song  shall  bless  the  Lord  of  all, 
My  praise  shall  climb  to  his  abode 
Thee,  Saviour,  by  that  name  I  call, 
The  great  supreme,  the  mighty  God. 

2  Without  beginning  or  decline, 
Object  of  faith,  and  not  of  sense; 
Eternal  ages  saw  him  shine, 

He  shines  eternal  ages  hence. 

3  As  much  when  in  the  manger  laid, 
Almighty  Ruler  of  the  sky, 

As  when  the  six  days'  work  he  made 
Fill'd  all  the  morning  stars  with  joy. 

4  Of  all  the  crowns  Jehovah  bears, 
Salvation  is  his  dearest  claim  ; 

That  gracious  sound  well-pleased  he  hear^ 
And  owns  Emmanuel  for  his  name. 

5  A  cheerful  confidence  I  feel, 

My  well-placed  hopes  with  joy  I  see ; 
My  bosom  glows  with  heavenly  zeal 
To  worship  him  who  died  for  me. 

6  As  man,  he  pities  my  complaint, 
His  pow'r  and  truth  are  all  divine ; 

IS 


18  SACRED  POETRY. 

He  will  not  fail,  he  cannot  faint, 
Salvation's  sure,  and  must  be  mine. 

COWPER. 


6.    THE  JOY  OF  THE  LORD  IS  YOUR 
STRENGTH. 


1  Joy  is  a  fruit  that  will  not  grow 

In  nature's  barren  soil ; 
All  we  can  boast,  till  Christ  we  know, 
Is  vanity  and  toil. 

2  But  where  the  Lord  has  planted  grace, 

And  made  his  glories  known ; 
There  fruits  of  heavenly  joy  and  peace 
Are  found,  and  there  alone. 

3  A  bleeding  Saviour,  seen  by  faith, 

A  sense  of  pard'ning  love, 
A  hope  that  triumphs  over  death, 
Give  joys  like  those  above. 

4  To  take  a  glimpse  within  the  vail, 

To  know  that  God  is  mine, 
Are  springs  of  joy  that  never  fail, 
Unspeakable  !  divine ! 
b  These  are  the  joys  which  satisfy 
And  sanctify  the  mind ; 


SACRED  POETRY.  19 

Which  make  the  spirit  mount  on  high, 
And  leave  the  world  behind. 
6  No  more,  believers,  mourn  your  lot, 
But  if  you  are  the  Lord's, 

Resign  to  them  that  know  him  not. 
Such  joys  as  earth  affords. 

NEWTON. 


7«       PRAISE  FOR  THE  FOUNTAIN 
OPENED. 


1  There  is  a  fountain  filled  with  blood, 

Drawn  from  Emmanuel's  veins  ; 
And  sinners  plung'd  beneath  that  flood, 
Lose  all  their  guilty  stains. 

2  The  dying  thief  rejoiced  to  see 

That  fountain  in  his  day  ; 

And  there  have  I,  as  vile  as  he, 

Wash'd  all  my  sins  away. 

3  Dear  dying  Lamb,  thy  precious  blood 

Shall  never  lose  its  pow'r, 
Till  all  the  ransom'd  church  of  God 
Be  sav'd,  to  sin  no  more. 

4  H'er  since,  by  faith,  I  saw  the  stream 

Thy  flowing  wounds  supply. 


20  SACRED  POETRY. 

Redeeming  love  has  been  my  theme, 

And  shall  be  till  I  die. 
6  Then  in  a  nobler,  sweeter  song, 

I'll  sing  thy  pow'r  to  save,  [tongue 

When     this    poor    lisping,    stamm'ring 

Lies  silent  in  the  grave. 

6  Lord,  I  believe  thou  hast  prepar'd 

(Unworthy  tho'  I  be,) 
For  me  a  blood-bought  free  reward, 
A  golden  harp  for  me  ! 

7  'Tis  strung,  and  tun'd  for  endless  years, 

And  form'd  by  pow'r  divine, 
To  sound  in  God  the  Father's  ears 
No  other  name  but  thine. 

COWPEB. 


8.  LOOKING  AT  THE  CROSS. 

1  In  evil  long  I  took  delight, 

Unaw'd  by  shame  or  fear, 
Till  a  new  object  struck  my  sight, 
And  stopt  my  wild  career. 

2  I  saw  one  hanging  on  a  tree, 

In  agonies  and  blood, 
Who  fixed  his  languid  eyes  on  me, 
As  near  his  cross  I  stood. 


SACRED  POETRY.  21 

3  Sure  never  till  my  latest  breath 

Can  I  forget  that  look  ; 
It  seem'd  to  charge  me  with  his  death, 
Tho'  not  a  word  he  spoke. 

4  My  conscience  felt  and  owned  the  guilt, 

And  plung'd  me  in  despair ; 

I  saw  my  sins  his  blood  had  spilt, 

And  help'd  to  nail  him  there. 

5  Alas !  I  knew  not  what  I  did, 

But  now  my  tears  are  vain  ; 
Where  shall  my  trembling  soul  be  hid  ? 
For  I  the  Lord  have  slain. 

6  A  second  look  he  gave,  which  said, 

"  I  freely  all  forgive  ; 
"  This  blood  is  for  thy  ransom  paid, 
"  1  die,  that  thou  may'st  live." 

7  Thus,  while  his  death  my  sin  displays 

In  all  its  blackest  hue, 
(Such  is  the  mystery  of  grace,) 
It  seals  my  pardon  too. 

8  With  pleasing  grief  and  mournful  joy 

My  spirit  now  is  fill'd, 
That  I  should  such  a  life  destroy, 
Yet  live  by  him  I  kill'd. 

NEWTOX, 


22      SACRED  POETRY. 


UNCERTAINTY  OF  LIFE. 


1  Like  crowded  forest  trees  we  stand, 

And  some  are  mark'd  to  fall : 
The  axe  will  smite  at  God's  command, 
And  soon  shall  smite  us  all. 

2  Green  as  the  bay-tree,  ever  green, 

With  its  new  foliage  on, 
The  gay,  the  thoughtless,  have  I  seen ; 
I  passed,  and  they  were  gone. 

3  Read,  ye  that  run,  the  awful  truth, 

With  which  I  charge  my  page ; 
A  worm  is  in  the  bud  of  youth  ; 
And  at  the  root  of  age. 

4  No  present  health  can  health  insure 

For  yet  an  hour  to  come ; 
No  med'cine,  tho'  it  oft  can  cure, 
Can  always  balk  the  tomb. 

5  Then  let  us  fly,  to  Jesus  fly, 

Whose  powerful  arm  can  save ; 
So  shall  our  hopes  ascend  on  high, 
And  triumph  o'er  the  grave. 

COWPER. 


SACRED  POETRY.      23 

10.        RESIGNATION. 

1  Oh  thou  whose  mercy  guides  my  way, 

Tho'  now  it  seem  severe, 
Forbid  my  unbelief  to  say, 
There  is  no  mercy  here  ! 

2  Oh  grant  me  to  desire  the  pain 

That  comes  in  kindness  down, 
More  than  the  world's  supremest  gain 
Succeeded  by  a  frown. 

3  Then,  tho'  thou  bend  my  spirit  low, 

Love  only  shall  I  see  : 
The  very  hand  that  9trikes  the  blow, 
Was  wounded  once  for  me. 

EDMESTON. 


11.    THE  CHRISTIAN  IN  THE  PROS- 
PECT OF  DEATH. 


1  O  most  delightful  hour  by  man 

Experienc'd  here  below, 
The  hour  that  terminates  his  span, 
His  folly  and  his  woe  ! 

2  Worlds  should  not  bribe  me  back  to  tread 

Again  life's  dreary  waste, 


24  SACRED  POETRY. 

To  see  again  my  day  o'erspread 
With  all  the  gloomy  past. 

3  My  home  henceforth  is  in  the  skies, 

Earth,  seas,  and  sun,  adieu ! 
All  heav'n  unfolded  to  my  eyes, 
I  have  no  sight  for  you. 

4  So  speaks  the  Christian,  firm  possess'd 

Of  Faith's  supporting  rod, 
Then  breathes  his  soul  into  its  rest, 
The  bosom  of  his  God. 

COWPER. 


12.      THE  RESURRECTION  HOPE. 


1  I  heard  thee — not  the  seraph's  strain 

Could  wake  such  raptures  in  my  breast ; 
Thy  prayer  could  ease  the  bed  of  pain, 
And  soothe  the  struggling  soul  to  rest. 

2  I  lov'd  thee — not  the  mountain's  brow 

More  gladly  caught  day's  youngest  beam, 
Than  I  thy  smile, — 'tis  vanish'd  now, 
A  brief  delight,  a  lovely  dream. 

3  Avails  it,  that  thy  mantling  bloom 

Hath  left  thee  in  this  lonely  cell  ? 


SACRED    POETRY.  25 

Avails  it  that  death's  dark'ning  gloom 
Hath  dimm'd  those  eyes  where  love 
should  dwell  ? 
4-  That  cheek  shall  wear  a  fairer  hue, 
When  risen  from  this  yielding  sod  ; 
Those  eyes  shall  speak,  in  softer  blue, 
Love  in  the  paradise  of  God  ! 

ANON. 


13.  new  year's  hymn. 


1  He  lives,  who  lives  to  God  alone, 

And  all  are  dead  beside ; 
For  other  source  than  God  is  none, 
Whence  life  can  be  supplied. 

2  To  live  to  God  is  to  requite 

His  love  as  best  we  may ; 
To  make  his  precepts  our  delight, 
His  promises  our  stay. 

3  But  life,  within  a  narrow  ring 

Of  giddy  joys  compris'd, 
Is  falsely  nam'd,  and  no  such  thing, 
But  rather  death  disguis'd. 

4  Can  life  in  them  deserve  the  name, 

Who  only  live  to  prove 


26  SACRED  POETRY. 

For  what  poor  toys  they  can  disclaim 
An  endless  life  above  ? 

5  Who  trample  order,  and  the  day 

Which  God  asserts  his  own, 

Dishonour  with  unhallow'd  play, 

And  worship  chance  alone  ? 

6  If  scorn  of  God's  commands,  impress'd 

On  word  and  deed,  imply 
The  better  part  of  man  unbless'd 
With  life  that  cannot  die  ; 

7  Such  want  it,  and  that  want,  uncur'd 

Till  man  resigns  his  breath, 
Speaks  him  a  criminal,  assur'd 
Of  everlasting  death. 

8  Sad  period  to  a  pleasant  course  ! 

Yet  so  will  God  repay 
Sabbaths  profan'd  without  remorse, 
And  mercy  cast  away. 

COWPER. 


14u  THE  SAME. 


1  Thankless  for  favours  from  on  high, 
Man  thinks  he  fades  too  soon; 
Tho'  'tis  his  privilege  to  die, 
Would  he  improve  the  boon, 


SACEED  POETRY.  ©7 

2  But  he,  not  wise  enough  to  scan 

His  best  concerns  aright, 
Would  gladly  stretch  life's  little  span 
To  ages,  if  he  might. 

3  To  ages  in  a  world  of  pain, 

To  ages,  where  he  goes, 
Gall'd  by  affliction's  heavy  chain, 
And  hopeless  of  repose. 

4  Strange  fondness  of  the  human  heart, 

Enamour'd  of  its  harm  ! 
Strange  world,  that  costs  it  so  much  smart 
And  still  has  power  to  charm. 

5  Whence  has  the  world  her  magic  pow'r? 

Why  deem  we  death  a  foe? 
Recoil  from  weary  life's  best  hour, 
And  covet  longer  woe  ! 

6  The  cause  is  conscience — conscience  oft 

Her  tale  of  guilt  renews  : 
Her  voice  is  terrible,  tho'  soft, 
And  dread  of  death  ensues. 

7  Then  anxious  to  be  longer  spared, 

Man  mourns  his  fleeting  breath : 
All  evils  then  seem  light  compared 
With  the  approach  of  death. 

8  'Tis  judgment  shakes  him :  there's  the  feaa 

That  prompts  his  wish  to  stay ; 
He  has  incurr'd  a  long  arrear, 
And  must  despair  to  pay. 


28  SACRED  POETRY. 

9  Pay  ! — follow  Christ,  and  all  is  paid ; 
His  death  your  peace  ensures; 
Think  on  the  grave  where  he  was  laid, 
And  calm  descend  to  yours. 

COWPEB. 


15.  EPITAPH. 

1  Forgive,  blest  shade,  the  tributary  tear. 
That  mourns  thy  exit  from  a  world  like  this  ? 
Forgive  the  wish  that  would  have  kept  thee 

here, 
And  stay'd  thy  progress  to  the  seats  of  bliss. 

2  No  more   confin'd  to  grov'ling  scenes  of 

night, 
No  more  a  tenant  pent  in  mortal  clay; 
Now  should  we  rather  hail   thy  glorious 

flight, 
And  trace  thy  journey  to  the  realms  of  day. 

ANON. 


16.    THE  SAVIOUR   WEEPING    OVER 
JERUSALEM. 

1  O  Salem  !  who,  in  proud  disdain, 
My  faithful  prophets  slew ; 


SACKED  POETRY.  29 

And  soon  the  cup  of  guilt  to  drain, 

Wilt  slay  thy  Saviour  too  ! 
How  had  my  love  thy  children  blest, 

Their  deeds  of  blood  forgot, 
And  led  them  to  eternal  rest ! 

But  they  consented  not. 
2  Now  shall  thy  house  be  desolate, 

Thy  glory  now  shall  close  ; 
Nor  leave  one  trace  of  ruined  state, 

To  tell  where  Salem  rose. 
Nor  shalt  thou  thy  Redeemer  see, 

Nor  hail  thy  crown  restor'd, 
Till  thou  shalt  say,  "  How  blest  is  he 

Whom  thou  hast  sent,  O  Lord  1" 

DALE. 

17.       UNCERTAINTY  OF  LIFE. 


1  Man  like  a  flower  at  mom  appears, 
And  blooms  perhaps  a  few  short  years : 
The  flatterer,  Hope,  still  leads  him  on 
In  quest  of  pleasure,  finding  none; 

Or,  if  he  finds  it  for  a  day, 

It  soon  takes  wings  and  flies  away. 

2  Oft  things  which  promise  passing  fair, 
Deceive  and  yield  him  nought  but  care. 


30  SACRED  POETRY. 

Care,  ever  varying,  ever  new, 
Must  still  our  fallen  race  pursue  : 
Comes  joy  ?  care  with  it  comes  along, 
And  spoils  the  syren's  sweetest  song. 

3  See  pleasure  with  bewitching  charms, 
Man  grasps  it  in  his  eager  arms  j 
The  vision  swift  dissolves  in  air, 

He  grasps — but  finds  it  is  not  there  ; 
The  airy  phantom  still  he  views, 
And  still  as  vainly  he  pursues. 

4  A  better  hope  the  Christian  cheers, 
Which  joyful  thro'  life's  gloom  appears ; 
Firm  on  a  rock  his  hope  he  builds, 
Which  to  no  storm  nor  tempest  yields ; 
Let  earth  dissolve — he  will  not  fear ; 
And  why  ?  his  hope  is  not  fix'd  here. 

£>  He  looks  to  heav'n,  where  ev'ry  joy 
Is  pure,  unmix'd,  without  alloy ; 
Joys  such  as  mortals  never  knew, 
Nor  raptur'd  fancy  ever  drew, 
Joys  which  shall  never  pass  away, 
Tho'  heav'n  and  earth  should  both  decay, 

6   Tho'  worldly  pleasures  here  should  fail, 
And  sorrows  for  a  while  prevail ; 
Tho'  friends  forsake,  and  death  remove 
The  dearest  objects  of  our  love  ; 
Yet  there  remains  a  heavenly  rest 
For  those  whom  Christ  the  Lord  has  blest 


SACRED  POETRY.  31 

And  shall  the  world's  deceitful  smile 
Us  of  this  glorious  hope  heguile  ? 
Shall  we  earth's  empty  pleasures  prize, 
And  heav'n  seem  little  in  our  eyes  ? 
It  must  not  be — vain  dreams  away, 
We  look  for  joys  which  ne'er  decay. 

ANON, 


18.  LOVE  TO  PARENTS. 

1  To  honour  those  who  gave  us  birth, 
To  cheer  their  age,  to  feel  their  worth, 
Is  God's  command  to  human  kind, 
And  own'd  by  every  grateful  mind. 

i  Trace  then  the  tender  scenes  of  old, 
And  all  our  infant  days  unfold ; 
Yield  back  to  sight  the  mother's  breast, 
Watchful  to  lull  her  child  to  rest. 

3  Survey  her  toil,  her  anxious  care, 
To  form  the  lisping  lips  to  piay'r; 
To  win  for  God  the  yielding  soul, 
And  all  its  ardent  thoughts  control. 

t  Nor  hold  from  mem'ry's  glad  review, 
The  fears  which  all  the  father  knew: 
The  joy  that  mark'd  his  thankful  gaze 
As  virtue  crown'd  maturer  days. 


32  SACRED  POETRY. 

5  When  press'd  by  sickness,  pain,  or  grief, 
How  anxious  they  to  give  relief ! 

Our  dearest  wish  they  held  their  own  ; 
Till  our's  return'd  their  peace  was  flown. 

6  God  of  our  life,  each  parent  guard, 
And  death's  sad  hour,  O  !  long  retard ; 
Be  theirs  each  joy  that  gilds  the  past, 
And  heaven  our  mutual  home  at  last. 

NOEL. 


19-  CONFESSION. 

1  Lord,  when  we  bend  before  thy  throne, 

And  our  confessions  pour, 
Teach  us  to  feel  the  sins  we  own, 
And  shun  what  we  deplore. 

2  Our  contrite  spirits  pitying  see, 

And  penitence  impart ; 
And  let  a  healing  ray  from  thee 
Beam  hope  upon  the  heart. 

3  "When  our  responsive  tongues  essay 

Their  grateful  songs  to  raise  ; 
Grant  that  our  souls  may  join  the  lay, 
And  rise  to  thee  in  praise. 

4  When  we  disclose  our  wants  in  prayer, 

May  we  our  wills  resign ; 


SACRED  POETRY.  33 

And  not  a  thought  our  bosom  share, 

Which  is  not  wholly  thine. 
Let  faith  each  meek  petition  fill, 

And  waft  it  to  the  skies  : 
And  teach  our  hearts  'tis  goodness  still 

That  grants  it  or  denies. 

ANON. 


20.    BLESSED    EE    THY    NAME    FOR 
EVER. 

1  Blessed  be  thy  name  for  ever, 
Thou  of  life  the  guard  and  giver; 

Thou  canst  guard  thy  creatures  sleeping  ; 
Heal  the  heart  long  broke  with  weeping. 
God  of  stillness  and  of  motion, 
Of  the  desert  and  the  ocean, 
Of  the  mountain,  rock,  and  river, 
Blessed  be  thy  name  for  ever. 

2  Thou  who  slumbereet  not  nor  sleepest, 
Blest  are  they  thou  kindly  keepest ; 
God  of  evening's  parting  ray, 

Of  midnight's  gloom,  and  dawning  day, 
That  rises  from  the  azure  sea, 
Like  breathings  of  eternity  ; 
God  of  life  !  that  fade  shall  never, 
Blessed  be  thy  name  for  ever ! 

HOQG, 
C 


34)  SACRED  POETRY. 


21.  SICKNESS. 


1  When  pining  sickness  wastes  the  frame 
Acute  disease  and  weak'ning  pain ; 
When  life  fast  spends  her  feeble  flame, 
And  all  the  help  of  man  is  vain ; 
Joylec*  and  dark  all  things  appear, 
Languid  the  spirits,  weak  the  flesh  : 
Med'cines  can't  ease,  nor  cordials  cheer, 
Nor  food  i  ipport,  nor  sleep  refresh. 

2  O  !  then  to  have  recourse  to  God, 
To  pray  to  him  in  time  of  need ; 
To  feel  the  balm  of  Jesus'  blood, 
"  his  is  to  find  a  friend'indeed. 

O  Christian  !  this  thy  happy  lot, 
Who  cleavest  to  the  Lord  by  faith ; 
He'll  never  leave  thee,  doubt  it  not, 
In  pain,  in  sickness,  or  in  death. 

3  When  flesh  and  heart  decays  and  fails, 
He  will  thy  strength  and  portion  be, 
Support  thy  weakness,  bear  thy  ails, 
And  softly  whisper,  "  Trust  in  me." 
Himself  shall  be  thy  tender  friend, 
Thy  kind  physician  and  thy  stay, 


SACRED    POETRY.  35 

To  make  thy  bed  will  condescend, 
And  chase  thy  burning  tears  away. 

HART- 


22.  SUBMISSION. 


There  is  a  secret  in  the  ways  of  God, 
With  his  own  children,  which  none  others 

know, 
That  sweetens  all  he  does  ;  and  if  such  peace, 
While  under  his  afflicting  hand,  we  find, 
What  will  it  be  to  see  him  as  he  is, 
And  past  the  reach  of  all  that  now  disturbs 
The  tranquil  soul's  repose  ?    To  contemplate, 
In  retrospect  unclouded,  all  the  means 
By  which  his  wisdom  has  prepar'd  his  saints 
For  the  vast  weight  of  glory  which  remains  ! 
Come  then,  Affliction,  if  my  Father  bids, 
And  be  my  frowning  friend:  A  friend  that 

frowns 
Is  better  than  a  smiling  enemy. 
We  welcome  clouds  which  bring  the  former 

rain, 
Though  they  the  present  prospect  blacken 

round, 
And  shade  the  beauties  of  the  op'ning  year, 


35  SACRED  POETRY. 

That,  by  their  stores  enrich'd,  the  earth  may 

yield 
A'fruitful  summer,  and  a  plenteous  crop. 

SWAINE. 


23.       THE  BIRTH  OF  CHRIST. 

1  Brightest   and  best  of  the  sons  of  the 

morning, 
Dawn  on  our  darkness,  and  lend  us  thine 

aid! 
Star  of  the  east  the  horizon  adorning, 
Guide  where  our  infant  Redeemer  is  laid ! 

2  Cold  on  his  cradle  the  dew  drops  are  shining. 
Low  lies  his  bed  with  the  beasts  of  the  stall ! 
Angels  adore  him  in  slumber  reclining, 
Maker  and  Monarch,  and  Saviour  of  all ! 

3  Say  shall  we  yield  him  in  costly  devotion. 
Odours  of  Edom,  and  off'rings  divine  ; 
Gems  of  the  mountain,  and  pearls  of  th< 

ocean, 
Myrrh  from  the  forest,  and  gold  from  tin 

mine  ? 
4<  Vainly  we  offer  each  ample  oblation, 
Vainly  with  gold  would  his  favour  secure 
Richer  by  far  is  the  heart's  adoration, 
Dearer  to  God  are  the  pray'rs  of  the  pool 


S ACHED  POETRY.  SJ 

5  Brightest   and  best   of  the   sons  of  the 

morning, 
Dawn  on  our  darkness,  and  lend  us  thine 

aid ! 
Star  of  the  east  the  horizon  adorning, 
Guide  where  our  infant  Redeemer  is  laid  ! 

BISHOP  HEBEK. 


24.   PURSUIT  AFTER  HAPPINESS. 

1  No  longer  I  follow  a  sound, 
No  longer  a  dream  I  pursue  ; 

0  happiness,  not  to  be  found ! 
Unattainable  treasure,  adieu ! 

2  I  have  sought  thee  in  splendour  and  dress, 
In  the  regions  of  pleasure  and  taste  ; 

1  have  sought  thee,  and  seemed  to  possess, 
But  have  proved  thee  a  vision  at  last. 

3  An  humble  ambition  and  hope 
The  voice  of  true  wisdom  inspires  • 
'Tis  sufficient,  if  peace  be  the  scope 
And  the  summit  of  all  our  desires. 

4  Peace  may  be  the  lot  of  the  mind 
That  seeks  it  in  meekness  and  love, 
But  rapture  and  bliss  are  confined 
To  the  glorified  spirits  above. 

COW  FEB. 


38  SACRED  POETRY. 

25.  DEATH. 

1  That  awful  hour  will  soon  appear, 
Swift  on  the  wings  of  time  it  flies, 
When  all  that  pains  or  pleases  here 
Will  vanish  from  my  closing  eyes. 

2  Death  calls    my  friends,  my  neighbours 

hence, 
And  none  resist  the  fatal  dart ; 
Continual  warnings  strike  my  sense, 
And  shall  they  fail  to  strike  my  heart  ? 

3  Think,  O  my  soul !  how  much  depends 
On  the  short  period  of  a  day  ; 

Shall  time,  which  heaven  in  mercy  lends, 
Be  negligently  thrown  away  ? 

4  Thy  remnant  minutes  strive  to  use  ; 
Awake  !  rouse  every  active  power  ! 
And  not  in  dreams  and  trifles  lose 
This  little — this  important  hour ! 

5  Lord  of  my  life,  inspire  my  heart 
With  heavenly  ardour,  grace  divine  ! 
Nor  let  thy  presence  e'er  depart, 

For  strength,  and  life,  and  death,  are  thine* 

6  O  teach  me  the  celestial  skill 
Each  awful  warning  to  improve ; 


SACRED  POETRY.  39 

And  while  my  days  are  short'ning  still, 
Prepare  me  for  the  joys  above  ! 

MRS.  STEELE. 


26.  THE  POWER  OF  GOD. 


1  Shall  mortal  man,  a  child  of  t.~MK 
Who  yesterday  receiv'*'  his  birth 

From  God's  all-bour.ceous  hand  ; 
Shall  he,  while  sojourning  below, 
Presume  th'  Almighty's  plans  to  know, 

His  ways  to  understand  ? 

2  He  rides  upon  the  stormy  deep ; 
His  watchful  eyes,  that  never  sleep. 

Wide  o'er  creation  roll ; 
And  from  his  high  empyreal  throne, 
Views,  with  one  glance,  the  torrid  zone 

And  ice-surrounded  pole. 

3  His  paths  the  trackless  waters  are, 
The  winged  whirlwind  is  his  car, 

His  wheels  the  hurricane  : 
His  fiery  coursers,  bounding,  fly, 
Borne  rapid  through  th'  ethereal  sky, 

Or  o'er  the  foamine:  main  ! 


40  SACRED  POETRY. 

4  Earth,  as  he  passes,  shakes  with  fear ; 
Th'  infernal  spirits  when  they  hear, 

T.o  deeper  caverns  fly ; 
Fierce,  blazing  lightnings  mark  his  way, 
Behind  him  pealing  thunders  play 

Their  dread  artillery ! 

5  His  wisdom,  infinite  and  vast, 
Shall  through  eternal  ages  last, 

Unchangeably  the  same ; 
While  in  the  dreary  shades  of  hell, 
His  justice  so  inflexible, 

Proclaims  his  awful  name. 

6  Before  the  earth  or  worlds  were  made, 
His  vast  eternal  plans  were  laid 

In  wisdom  and  in  love  ; 
And  what  the  Almighty  then  designed 
Isfinistid  in  th'  eternal  mind  ! 

His  purpose  cannot  move. 

7  Ah  !  then  suppress  each  rising  sigh, 
Nor  dare  to  ask  the  Almighty  why, 

Or  what  his  hands  perform ; 
Submit  to  his  all-wise  decrees, 
Whose  power  can  calm  the  raging  seas, 

Or  r&y=e  them  to  a  storm  ! 

RAFFLES, 


SACRED  POETRY*  41 


27.         THE  HEAVENLY  REST. 

1  Lord,  1  believe  a  rest  remains 

To  all  thy  people  known  : 
A  rest  where  pure  enjoyment  reigns, 
And  thou  art  loved  alone. 

2  Celestial  Spirit,  make  me  know 

That  I  shall  enter  in  ; 
Now,  Saviour,  now  thy  pow'r  bestow, 
And  wash  me  from  my  sin. 

3  Remove  this  hardness  from  my  heart, 

This  unbelief  remove ; 
To  me  the  rest  of  faith  impart, 
The  Sabbath  of  thy  love. 

4  Come,  O  my  Saviour,  come  away, 

Into  my  soul  descend  ; 
No  longer  from  thy  creature  stay, 
My  Author  and  my  end. 

WESLEY 


28.        INVITATION  TO  THE  YOUNG* 


1  Ye  hearts  with  youthful  vigour  warm, 
In  smiling  crowds  draw  near, 


42  *SACRED  POETRY. 

And  turn  from  every  mortal  charm, 
A  Saviour's  voice  to  hear. 

2  He,  Lord  of  all  the  worlds  on  high, 

Stoops  to  converse  with  you  ; 
And  lays  his  radiant  glories  by, 
Your  friendship  to  pursue. 

3  "The  soul  that  longs  to  see  my 

"  Is  sure  my  love  to  gain ; 
"  And  those  that  early  seek  my  face 
"  Shall  never  seek  in  vain." 

4>  What  object,  Lord,  my  soul  should  move 
If  once  compared  with  thee  ? 
What  beauty  should  command  my  love 
Like  what  in  Christ  I  see  ? 

5  Away,  ye  false  delusive  toys, 
Vain  tempters  of  the  mind  ! 
'Tis  here  I  fix  my  lasting  choice, 
For  here  true  bliss  I  find ! 

DODDRIDGE. 


29.      COMFORT  IN  AFFLICTION. 


The  path  of  sorrow,  and  tha  t  path  alone, 
Leads  to  the  land  where  sorrow  is  unknown  i 


SACRED  POETRY.  43 

No  trav'ller  ever  reach'd  that  blest  abode, 
Who  found  not  thorns  and  briers  on  his  road. 
For  He,  who  knew  what  human  hearts  would 

prove, 
How  slow  to  learn  the  dictates  of  his  love, 
That,  hard  by  nature,  and  of  stubborn  will, 
A  life  of  ease  would  make  them  harder  still, 
In  pity  to  the  souls  his  grace  design'd 
To  rescue  from  the  ruins  of  mankind, 
Call'd  for  a  cloud  to  darken  all  their  years, 
And  said,  "  Go,  spend  them  in  the  vale  of 

tears !" 
O  balmy  gales  of  soul-reviving  air 
O  salutary  streams  that  murmur  there  ! 
These  flowing  from  the  fount  of  grace  above, 
Those  breath'd  from  lips  of  everlasting  love. 
The  flinty  soil  indeed  their  feet  annoys, 
Chill   blasts  of  trouble  nip  their   springing 

An  envious  world  will  interpose  its  frown, 
To  mar  delights  superior  to  its  own  ; 
And  many  a  pang  experienc'd  still  within, 
Reminds  them  of  their  hated  inmate,  Sin  ; 
But  ills  of  every  shape  and  ev'ry  name, 
Transform'd  to  blessings,  miss  their  cniel  aim ; 
And  ev'ry  moment's  calm  that  soothes  the 

breast, 
Is  given  in  earnest  of  eternal  rest. 

COWPE& 


44      SACRED  POETRY. 

30.         HEAVEN. 

I  love  to  think  of  heav'n,  where  I  shall  meet 
My  fellow-travellers,  and  where  no  more 
With  grief  or  sin  my  mind  will  be  disturb'd, 
Where  holy  saints  and  holy  angels  dwell 
In  constant  harmony  and  mutual  love. 
"But,  when  my  heart  anticipates  the  sight 
Of  God  incarnate,  wearing  on  his  side, 
And  hands,  and  feet,  those  marks  of  love 

divine, 
Which  he  on  Calvary  for  me  endur'd, 
All  heaven  beside  is  swallowed  up  in  this  ; 
And  he  who  is  my  hope  of  heav'n  below, 
Appears  the  glory  of  my  heav'n  above. 

SWAINE. 


31.       CAMERONIAN  MIDNIGHT- 
HYMN. 

]  Oh  !  thou,  that  dwell 'st  in  the  heavens 

so  high, 
Beyond  yon  star,  within  yon  sky, 
Where  the  dazzling  fields  need  no  other 

light, 
Nor  the  sun  by  day, — nor  the  moon  by 

night 


SACRED   POETRY.  45 

2  Though   shining    millions  around    thee 

stand,  3 

For  the  sake  of  Him  at  thy  right  hand, 
Oh  !  think  on  the  souls  he  died  for  here, 
Thus  wand'ring  in  darkness,  in  doubt, 

and  fear. 

3  The  powers  of  darkness  are  all  abroad, 
They  own  no  Saviour,  and  they  fear  no 

God; 
And  we  are  trembling  in  dumb  dismay, 
Oh  !   turn  not  thou  thy  face  away. 

4<  Our  night  is  dreary  and  dim  our  day, 
And  if  thou  turn'st  thy  face  away, 
We  are  sinful,  feeble,  and  helpless  dust, 
And  have  none  to  look  to,  and  none  t 
trust. 

5  Thy  aid,  Oh,  mighty  One !  we  crave, 
Not  shorten'd  is  thy  arm  to  save  ; 
Afar  from  thee  we  now  sojourn, 
Return  to  us,  Oh,  God,  return  ! 

HOGG. 

32.       THE    MARTYR    TO    HIS  APOS. 
TATE  JUDGE. 

No  ! — think  not  I  can  ever  be 
False  to  my  Saviour's  hallow'd  name 


46  SACRED  POETRY. 

For  aught  that  thou  could'st  offer  me— 
A  little  life — a  little  fame : 
Twere  weak  indeed  to  lose  for  them 
A  bright,  unfading  diadem. 

Hear  then  my  firm  resolve — and  now 
The  guards,  the  racks,  the  flames  prepare ; 
And  brand  me  false  and  frail  as  thou, 
If  I  retract  or  tremble  there  : 
Go  thou,  thy  bleeding  Lord  disown ; 
Be  mine  the  faithful  martyr's  crown  ! 

Aye,  thou  may'st  smile, — but  not  in  scorn, 
Proud  minion  of  a  despot's  will ; 
Thy  direst  vengeance  have  I  borne, 
And  stand  prepar'd  to  bear  it  still ; 
My  pride,  my  glory  it  shall  be 
To  die  for  him  who  died  for  me ! 

And  if  one  passing  pang  I  feel, 
Deluded  crowd  !  'tis  felt  for  you ; 
Ev'n  thus  resolved  the  truth  to  seal, 
Would  that  ye  were  martyrs  too  ! 
Blest  Saviour ! — Lord  of  Earth  and  Hea- 
ven— 
Oh  I  be  their  sins  and  mine  forgiv'n. 

DALE. 


SACRED  POETRY.  4J 


33.  HOPE. 

There  is  a  thought,  can  lift  the  soul 
Above  the  narrow  sphere  that  bounds  it, 
A  Star,  that  sheds  its  mild  control 
Brightest,  when  grief's  dark  cloud  surrounds 

it; 
And  pours  a  soft,  pervading  ray, 
Life's  ills  can  never  chase  away. 

"When  earthly  joys  have  left  the  breast, 
And  ev'n  the  last  fond  hope  it  cherish'd 
Of  mortal  bliss — too  like  the  rest — 
Beneath  woe's  with'ring  touch  has  perish'd, 
With  fadeless  lustre  streams  that  light—. 
A  halo  on  the  brow  of  night. 

And  bitter  were  our  sojourn  here, 
In  this  dark  wilderness  of  sorrow, 
Did  not  that  rainbow  beam  appear,— 
The  herald  of  a  brighter  morrow, — 
A  friendly  beacon  from  on  high, 
To  guide  us  to  eternity. 

ALARIC  WATTS 


48 


SACllED  POETRY. 


34.  WELCOME  TO  CHRISTIAN  FRIENDS. 


1  Kindred  in  Christ,  for  his  dear  sake, 

A  hearty  welcome  here  receive  ; 
May  we  together  now  partake 
The  joys  which  only  he  can  give. 

2  To  you  and  us,  by  grace,  'tis  giv'n, 

To  know  the  Saviour's  precious  name  : 
And  shortly  we  shall  meet  in  heav'n, 
Our  hope,  our  way,  our  end  the  same. 

3  May  he,  by  whose  kind  care  we  meet, 

Send  his  good  Spirit  from  above ; 
Make  our  communications  sweet, 

And  cause  our  hearts  to  burn  with  love. 

4.  Forgotten  be  each  worldly  theme, 

When  Christians  see  each  other  thus ; 
"We  only  wish  to  speak  of  him 

Who  liv'd,  and  died,  and  reigns  for  us. 

5  We'll  speak  of  all  he  did,  and  said, 

And  suffer'd  for  us  here  below  ; 
The  path  he  mark'd  for  us  to  tread, 
And  what  he's  doing  for  us  now. 

6  Thus,  as  the  moments  pass  away, 

We'll  love,  and  wonder,  and  adore ; 


SACRED  POETRY.  49 

And  hasten  on  the  glorious  daj^ 

When  we  shall  meet  to  part  no  more. 

NEWTOX. 


35.  THE  SCRIPTURES. 

1  I  love  the  sacred  book  of  God ; 
No  other  can  its  place  supply  : 

.    It  points  me  to  the  saint's  abode  ; 
/    It  gives  me  wings,  and  bids  me  fly. 

2  Sweet  book,  in  thee  my  eyes  discern 
The  image  of  my  absent  lord  ; 
From  thine  instructive  page  I  learn 
The  joys  his  presence  will  afford. 

^3  In  thee  I  read  my  title  clear 
\  To  mansions  that  will  ne'er  decay  ; 
My  Lord,  O  when  will  he  appear, 
And  bear  his  pris'ner  far  away  ? 

4  Then  shall  I  need  thy  light  no  more ; 
For  nothing  shall  be  then  conceal'd  : 
When  I  have  reach'd  the  heavenly  shore, 
The  Lord  himself  will  stand  reveal'd. 

5  When,  'midst  the  throng  celestial  placed, 
The  bright  Original  I  see, 

From  which  thy  sacred  page  was  traced, 
Sweet  book,  I've  no  more  need  of  thee. 


50  S ACHED  POETRY. 

6  But  while  I'm  here,  thou  shalt  supply 
His  place,  and  tell  me  of  his  love ; 
I'll  read,  with  faith's  discerning  eye, 
And  get  a  taste  of  joys  above. 

7  I  know  his  Spirit  breathes  in  thee, 
To  animate  his  people  here  : 

May  thy  sweet  truths  prove  life  to  me, 
Till  in  his  presence  I  appear ! 

KELLY. 


35.  RESIGNATION. 

1  When  musing  sorrow  weeps  the  pastt 

And  mourns  the  present  pain  ; 
How  sweet  to  think  of  peace  at  last, 
And  feel  that  death  is  gain  ! 

2  'Tis  not  that  murm'ring  thoughts  arise, 

And  dread  a  Father's  will  ; 
'Tis  not  that  meek  submission  flies, 
And  would  not  suffer  still. 

3  It  is  that  heav'n-taugnt/mV/i  surveys 

The  path  to  realms  of  light ; 
And  longs  her  eagle  plumes  to  raise, 
And  lose  herself  in  sight. 

I  It  is  that  hope  witn  ardour  glows, 
To  see  HIM  face  to  face, 


SACRED  POETRY.  51 

Whose  dying  love  no  language  knows 
Sufficient  art  to  trace. 

5  It  is  that  harass'd  conscience  feels 

The  pangs  of  struggling  sin  ; 
Sees,  though  afar,  the  hand  that  heals, 
And  ends  her  war  within. 

6  Oh  !  let  me  wing  my  hallow'd  flight 

From  earth-born  woe  and  care  : 
And  soar  beyond  these  realms  of  night, 
My  Saviour's  bliss  to  share. 


37-       DEATH  OF  A  BELIEVER. 

1  When  a  believer  yields  his  breath, 
I  follow  him  with  eyes  of  faith 

Where  sense  can  see  no  more ; 
Methinks  I  see  him  spread  his  wings, 
And  soar  above  material  things, 

To  yon  celestial  shore. 

2  No  tongue  can  tell,  no  fancy  paint, 
What  transport  fills  th'  enraptur'd  saint, 

Of  paradise  possess'd : 
His  wants  abundantly  supplied, 
His  wishes  fully  satisfied, 

Himself  supremely  blest ! 


52  SACRED  POETRY. 

3  But  what  occasions  so  much  joy  ? 
Or  wnat  can  now  his  pow'rs  employ, 

That  yields  him  such  delight  ? 
'Tis  Jesus  on  his  heav'nly  throne, 
Who  sav'd  and  claim'd  him  for  his  own  ; 

What  object  half  so  bright? 

4  How  far  is  what  he  saw  below, 
Or  all  he  had  the  pow'r  to  know, 

By  what  he  sees  excell'd ! 
The  clouds  that  interpos'd  before, 
Obstruct  his  clearer  view  no  more ; 

And  Jesus  stands  reveal'd. 

5  But  see,  he  joins  the  ransom'd  throng, 
And  swells  tne  grand  triumphant  song 

"  Of  Moses  and  the  Lamb  !" 
Jesus,  the  object  of  their  praise  ; 
The  Lord,  who  deign'd  such  worms  to 

Th'  unsearchable  "  I  AM!"  [raise  ; 

6  O  may  we  know  the  Saviour's  grace ; 
And  then  in  heaven  behold  his  face, 

On  wings  angelic  borne : 
For  this  let  men  our  hope  contemn ; 
Well  pleas'd  we'll  smile  and  pity  them, 

And  haste  beyond  their  scorn. 

KELLY. 


SACRED  POETRY.  53 

38.       HEAVENLY  MINSTREL. 

1  Enthroned  upon  a  hill  of  light, 

A  heavenly  minstrel  sings  ; 
And  sounds,  unutterably  bright, 

Spring  from  the  golden  strings. 
Who  would  have  thought  so  fair  a  form 
Once  bent  beneath  an  earthly  storm  ! 

2  Yet  was  he  sad  and  lonely  here ; 

Of  low  and  humble  birth; 
And  mingled,  while  in  this  dark. sphere, 

With  meanest  sons  of  earth. 
In  spirit  poor,  in  look  forlorn, 
The  jest  of  mortals  and  the  scorn. 

3  A  crown  of  heavenly  radiance  now, 

A  harp  of  golden  strings, 
Glitters  upon  his  deathless  brow, 

And  to  his  hymn-note  rings. 
The  bower  of  interwoven  light 
Seems  at  the  sound  to  grow  more  bright. 

4  Then,  while  with  visage  blank  and  sear, 

The  poor  in  soul  we  see  ; 
Let  us  not  think  what  he  is  here, 

But  what  he  soon  will  be : 
And  look  beyond  this  earthly  night, 
To  crowns  of  gold,  and  bowers  of  light. 

EDMESTON. 


5%  SACRED  POETRY. 


39-   THE  CHILDREN  OF  GOD. 

1  There  is  a  family  on  earth, 

Whose  Father  fills  a  throne ; 
But,  though  a  seed  of  heavenly  birth, 
To  men  they're  little  known. 

2  Whene'er  they  meet  the  public  eye, 

They  feel  the  public  scorn  ; 

For  men  their  fairest  claims  deny, 

And  count  them  basely  born. 

3  But  'tis  the  King  who  reigns  above 

That  claims  them  for  his  own  ; 
The  favoured  objects  of  his  love, 
And  destined  to  a  throne. 

4  The  honours  that  belong  to  them, 

By  men  are  set  at  nought ; 
Whatever  shines  not  they  contemn, 
Unworthy  of  a  thought  ! 

5  But,  Ah  !  how  little  they  reflect ! 

For,  mark  the  unerring  word  ! 
"  That  which  with  men  has  most  respect, 
"  Is  odious  to  the  Lord." 

6  Were  honours  evident  to  sense, 

Their  portion  here  below  j 


SACRED  POETRY.  55 

The  world  would  do  them  reverence, 
And  all  their  claims  allow. 

7  But  when  the  King  himself  was  here, 

His  claims  were  set  at  nought : 
Would  they  another  lot  prefer? 
Rejected  be  the  thought ! 

8  No  !  they  will  tread,  while  here  below, 

The  path  their  Master  trod ; 
Content  all  honour  to  forego 
But  that  which  comes  from  God. 

9  And  when  the  King  again  appears, 

He'll  vindicate  their  claim  ; 
Eternal  honour  shall  be  theirs ; 
Their  foes  be  filled  with  shame. 

KELLY 


40.  EVENING  HYMN. 


1  Interval  of  grateful  shade, 
Welcome  to  my  weary  head! 
Welcome  slumbers  to  mine  eyes, 
Tired  with  glaring  vanities  ! 
My  great  Master  still  allows 
Needful  periods  of  repose. 


56  SACRED  POETRY. 

2  By  my  heavenly  Father  blest, 
Thus  I  give  my  powers  to  rest ; 
Heavenly  Father !   Gracious  name  ! 
Night  and  day  his  love  the  same  ! 
Far  be  each  suspicious  thought ! 
Every  anxious  care  forgot. 

3  Thou,  my  ever-bounteous  God, 
Crown'st  my  days  with  various  good : 
Thy  kind  eye,  that  cannot  sleep, 
These  defenceless  hours  shall  keep. 
Blest  vicissitude  to  me  ! 

Day  and  night  I'm  still  with  thee. 

PART   SECOND. 

1  What  though  downy  slumbers  flee, 
Strangers  to  my  couch  and  me  ? 
Sleepless  well  I  know  to  rest, 
Lodged  within  my  Father's  breast. 

2  While  the  empress  of  the  night 
Scatters  mild  her  silver  light ; 
While  the  vivid  planets  stray 
Various  through  their  mystic  way  ; 

3  While  the  stars,  unnumbered,  roll 
Round  the  ever-constant  pole ; 
Far  above  these  spangled  skies, 
All  my  soul  to  God  shall  rise. 


SACRED  FOETBY.  57 

4  'Midst  the  silence  of  the  night, 
Mingling  with  those  angels  bright, 
Whose  harmonious  voices  raise  > 
Ceaseless  love  and  ceaseless  praise ; 

5  'Midst  the  throng  his  gentle  ear 
Shall  my  tuneless  accents  hear  t 
From  on  high  doth  he  impart 
Secret  comfort  to  my  heart. 

6  He,  in  these  serenest  hours, 
Guides  my  intellectual  powers, 
And  his  Spirit  doth  diffuse 
Sweeter  far  than  midnight  dews  ; 

7  Lifting  all  my  thoughts  above, 
On  the  wings  of  faith  and  love : 
Blest  alternative  to  me, 

Thus  to  sleep  or  wake  with  thee ! 

PART  THIRD. 

1  What  if  death  my  sleep  invade  ? 
Should  I  be  of  death  afraid  ? 
Whilst  encircled  by  thine  arm, 
Death  may  strike  but  cannot  harm, 

2  What  if  beams  of  opening  day 
Shine  around  my  breathless  clay  ? 
Brighter  visions  from  on  high 
Shall  regale  my  mental  eye. 


58  SACRED  POETRY. 

3  Tender  friends  a  while  may  mourn 
Me,  from  their  embraces  torn : 
Dearer,  better  friends  I  have 
In  the  realms  beyond  the  grave. 

4<  See  the  guardian  angels  nigh, 
Wait  to  waft  my  soul  on  high ! 
See  the  golden  gates  displayed  ! 
See  the  crown  to  grace  my  head  ! 

5  See  a  flood  of  sacred  light, 

Which  no  more  shall  yield  to  night ! 
Transitory  world  farewell ! 
Jesus  calls  with  him  to  dwell. 


DODDRIDGE. 


41. 


LOVE  OF  GOD. 


1  Our  Father  sits  on  yonder  throne, 

Amidst  the  hosts  above  : 
He  reigns  throughout  the  world  alone, 
He  reigns  the  God  of  love. 

2  He  knew  us  when  we  knew  him  not^ 

Was  with  us,  though  unseen  ; 

His  favours  came  to  us  unsought, 

His  love  has  wondrous  been. 

3  He  keeps  us  now,  securely  keeps, 

Whatever  foe  assails, 


SACRED  POETRY.  59 

With  vigilance  that  never  sleeps, 

With  power  that  never  fails. 
He  gives  us  hope  that  we  shall  be, 

Ere  long,  with  him  above ; 
That  we  shall  all  his  glory  see, 

And  celebrate  his  love. 
Then  let  us,  while  we  dwell  below, 

Obey  our  Father's  voice  ; 
To  all  his  dispensations  bow, 

And  in  his  name  rejoice. 
How  sweet  to  hear  him  say  at  last, 

"  Ye  blessed  children,  come ; 
"  The  days  of  banishment  are  past, 

"  And  heaven  is  now  your  home. 

KEI.LY, 


[2.  PRAYER. 


Prayer  is  the  soul's  sincere  desire, 

Uttered  or  unexprest ; 
The  motion  of  a  hidden  fire 

That  trembles  in  the  breast. 
Prayer  is  the  burthen  of  a  sigh, 

The  falling  of  a  tear ; 
The  upward  glancing  of  an  eye, 

When  none  but  God  is  near, 


60  SACRED  POETRY. 

3  Prayer  is  the  simplest  form  of  speech 

That  infant  lips  can  try  ; 
Prayer  the  sublimest  strains  that  reach 
The  Majesty  on  high. 

4  Prayer  is  the  Christian's  vital  breath, 

The  Christian's  native  air, 
His  watchword  at  the  gates  of  death, 
He  enters  heaven  by  prayer. 

5  Prayer  is  the  contrite  sinner's  voice, 

Returning  from  his  ways ; 
While  angels  in  their  songs  rejoice, 
And  say,  "  Behold  he  prays  !" 

6  The  saints,  in  prayer,  appear  as  one, 

In  "word,  and  deed,  and  mind, 
When  with  the  Father  and  his  Son, 
Their  fellowship  they  find. 

7  Nor  prayer  is  made  on  earth  alone  : 

The  Holy  Spirit  pleads ; 
And  Jesus,  on  the  eternal  throne, 
For  sinners  intercedes. 

8  O  thou,  by  whom  we  come  to  God, 

The  Life,  the  Truth,  the  Way: 
The  path  of  prayer  thyself  hast  trod : 
Lord,  teach  us  how  to  pray. 

MONTGOMERY 


SACRED  POETRY.  61 

3.       THE  HEAVENLY  REST. 


There  is  an  hour  of  peaceful  rest, 
To  mourning  wand'rers  given ; 
There  is  a  tear  for  souls  distrest, 
A  balm  for  every  wounded  breast — 
'Tis  found  above — in  heaven  ! 

There  is  a  soft,  a  downy  bed, 

'Tis  fair  as  breath  of  even ; 
A  couch  for  weary  mortals  spread, 
Where  they  may  rest  the  aching  head, 

And  find  repose  in  heaven ! 

There  is  a  home  for  weary  souls, 

By  sin  and  sorrow  driven ; 
When  tost  on  life's  tempestuous  shoals, 
Where  storms  arise,  and  ocean  rolls, 

And  all  is  drear — but  heaven  ! 

There  faith  lifts  up  the  tearful  eye, 

The  heart  with  anguish  riven  : 
And  views  the  tempest  passing  by, 
The  evening  shadows  quickly  fly, 
And  all  serene  in  heaven  ! 

There  fragrant  flow'rs  immortal  bloom, 
And  joys  supreme  are  given ; 


62  SACRED  POETRY. 

There  rays  divine  disperse  the  gloom  : 
Beyond  the  confines  of  the  tomb, 
Appears  the  dawn  of  heaven  ! 

ANON. 


44.  "  SAY  YE  TO  THE  RIGHTEOUS, 
IT  SHALL   BE  WELL  WITH  HIM." 

Deserted  by  each  faithless  friend, 
When  fortune's  smiles,  no  more  attend, 
Submissive  to  his  Father's  will, 
The  patient  Christian  trusts  him  still, 
Still  walks  in  wisdom's  pleasant  way, 
And  loves  to  hear,  and  praise,  and  pray, 
His  joy  and  peace,  oh  who  can  tell  ! 
In  wealth  and  want,  with  him  "  all's  well." 

Or  passing  through  death's  gloomy  vale, 
When  fears  invade,  and  doubts  assail, 
While  leaning  on  the  staff  and  rod 
Of  his  unchanging  faithful  God  ; 
A  gleam  of  heavenly  light  appears, 
The  Saviour  wipes  away  his  tears, 
Triumphant  over  death  and  hell, 
In  life  and  death  with  him  'all's  well.' 

j.  s.  HARVEV. 


SACRED  POETRY.  63 


K.  THE  HIDING-PLACE. 


Awake,  sweet  harp  of  Judah,  wake, 
Retune  thy  strings  for  Jesus'  sake ; 
We  sing  the  Saviour  of  our  race, 
The  Lamb,  our  shield  and  hiding-place. 

When  God's  right  arm  is  bar'd  for  war, 
And  thunders  clothe  his  cloudy  car, 
Where,  where,  Oh  where !  shall  man  retire, 
T'  escape  the  horrors  of  his  ire  ? 

'Tis  he,  the  Lamb,  to  whom  we  fly, 
While  the  dread  tempest  passes  by ; 
God  sees  his  well-beloved's  face, 
And  spares  us  in  our  hiding-place. 

Thus,  while  we  dwell  in  this  low  scen«, 
The  Lamb  is  our  unfailing  screen  ; 
To  him,  though  guilty,  still  we  run, 
And  God  still  spares  us  for  his  Son. 

While  yet  we  sojourn  here  below, 
Pollutions  still  our  hearts  o'erfiow  ; 
Fall'n,  abject,  mean,  a  sentenc'd  race, 
We  deeply  need  a  hiding-place. 

Yet  courage— days  and  years  will  glide, 
And  we  shall  lav  these  clods  aside  ; 


64  SACRED  POETRY. 

Shall  be  baptiz'd  in  Jordan's  flood, 
And  wash'd  in  Jesus'  cleansing  blood. 

7  Then  pure,  immortal,  sinless,  freed, 
We  thro'  the  Lamb  shall  be  decreed ; 
Shall  meet  the  Father  face  to  face, 
And  need  no  more  a  hiding-place. 

KIRKE  WHITE. 


46.     DEPENDANCE  ON  CHRIST 
ALONE. 


1  If  ever  it  could  come  to  pass, 

That  sheep  of  Christ  might  fall  away, 
My  fickle,  feeble  soul,  alas  ! 

Would  fall  a  thousand  times  a  day. 
Were  not  thy  love  as  firm  as  free, 
Thou  soon  would'st  take  it, Lord, from  me. 

2  I  on  thy  promises  depend, 

(At  least  I  to  depend  desire,) 
That  thou  wilt  love  me  to  the  end, 

Be  with  me  in  temptation's  fire  : 
Wilt  for  me  work,  and  in  me  too, 
And  guide  me  right,  and  bring  me  through. 

3  None  other  stay  have  I  beside, 

If  these  can  alter  I  must  fall; 


SACRED  POETRY.  65 

I  look  to  thee  to  be  supplied 

With  life,  with  will,  with  power,  with  all. 
Rich  souls  may  glory  in  their  store, 
But  Jesus  will  relieve  the  poor. 

HART. 


£7-  FAMILY  WORSHIP. 


1  O  Lord,  another  day  is  flown, 

And  we,  a  lonely  band, 
Are  met  once  more  before  thy  throne, 
To  bless  thy  fost'ring  hand. 

2  And  wilt  thou  bend  a  iist'ning  ear 

To  praises  low  as  ours  ? 
Thou  wilt !  for  thou  dost  love  to  hear 
The  song  which  meekness  pours. 

3  And  Jesus,  thou  thy  smiles  wilt  deign, 

As  we  before  thee  pray, 
For  thou  didst  bless  the  infant  train, 
And  we  are  weak  as  they. 

i  O  let  thy  grace  perform  its  part, 
And  let  contention  cease  ; 
And  shed  abroad  in  every  heart, 
Thine  everlasting  peace ! 
K 


66  SACRED  POETRY. 

5  Thus  chasten'd,  cleans'd,  entirely  thine, 

A  flock  by  Jesus  led  ; 
The  sun  of  holiness  shall  shine 
In  glory  on  our  head. 

6  And  thou  wilt  turn  our  wand'ring  feet, 

And  thou  wilt  bless  our  way  : 
Till  worlds  shall  fade,  and  faith  shall  greet 
The  dawn  of  lasting  day. 

KIRKE  WHITE. 


48.      "  I  WILL  PRAISE  THE   LORD 
AT  ALL  TIMES."" 

1  Winter  has  a  joy  for  me, 

While  the  Saviour's  charms  I  read, 
Lowly,  meek,  from  blemish  free, 
In  the  snow-drop's  pensive  head. 

2  Spring  returns,  and  brings  along 

Life-invigorating  suns  : 
Hark  !  the  turtle's  plaintive  song 
Seems  to  speak  his  dying  groans  ! 

3  Summer  has  a  thousand  charms, 

All  expressive  of  his  worth  ; 
'Tis  his  sun  that  lights  and  warms, 
His  the  air  that  cools  the  earth. 

4  What,  has  Autumn  left  to  say 

Nothing  of  a  Saviour's  grace  ? 


SACRED    POETRY.  67 

Yes,  the  beams  of  milder  day 
Tell  me  of  his  smiling  face. 

5  Light  appears  with  early  davvn : 

While  the  sun  makes  haste  to  rise, 
See  his  bleeding  beauties  dawn 
On  the  blushes  of  the  skies. 

6  Ev'ning,  with  a  silent  pace, 

Slowly  moving  in  the  west, 
Shows  an  emblem  of  his  grace, 

Points  to  an  eternal  rest.  cowfer. 


49-      THE   STAR   OF   BETHLEHEM. 

1  When  marshall'd  on  the  nightly  plain, 

The  glitfring  host  bestud  the  sky  ; 
One  star  alone  of  all  the  train, 

Can  fix  the  sinner's  wandering  eye. 

2  Hark  !  hark  !  to  God  the  chorus  breaks, 

From  every  host,  from  every  gem ; 
But  one  alone  the  Saviour  speaks, 
It  is  the  star  of  Bethlehem. 

3  Once  on  the  raging  seas  I  rode, 

The  storm  was  loud,  the  night  was  dark, 
The  ocean  yawn'd — and  rudely  blow'd 
The  wind  that  toss'd  my  found'ring  bark. 

4  Deep  horror  then  my  vitals  froze, 

Death-struck,  I  ceas'd  the  tide  to  stem, 


t>8  SACRED   POETRY. 

•    When  suddenly  a  star  arose, 
It  was  the  Star  of  Bethlehem. 

5  It  was  my  guide,  my  light,  my  all ; 

It  bade  my  dark  forebodings  cease  ; 
And  thro'  the  storm,  and  danger's  thrall, 
It  led  me  to  the  port  of  peace. 

6  Now  safely  moor'd — my  perils  o'er, 

I'll  sing,  first  in  night's  diadem, 
"For  ever  and  for  evermore, 

The  Star !— the  Star  of  Bethlehem ! 

KIRKE  WHITE. 


50.       VANITY  OE  THE  WORLD. 

1  Ah  I  why  should  this  immortal  mind, 
Enslav'd  by  sense,  be  thus  confin'd, 

And  never,  never  rise  ? 
Why,  thus  amus'd  with  empty  toys, 
And  sooth'd  with  visionary  joys, 

Forget  her  native  skies  ? 

2  The  mind  was  form'd  to  mount  sublime, 
Beyond  the  narrow  bounds  of  time, 

To  everlasting  things  ; 
But  earthly  vapours  cloud  her  sight, 
And  hang  with  cold  oppressive  weight 

Upon  her  drooping  wings. 


SACP.ED  POETRY.  60 

\  The  world  employs  its  various  snares, 
Of  hopes  and  pleasures,  pains  and  caresu 

And  chain'd  to  earth  I  lie  : 
When  shall  my  fetter* d  powers  be  free, 
And  leave  these  seats  of  vanity, 
And  upward  learn  to  fly  ? 

\>  Bright  scenes  of  bliss,  unclouded  skies, 
Invite  my  soul — O  could  I  rise, 

Nor  leave  a  thought  below  ! 
I'd  bid  farewell  to  anxious  care, 
And  say  to  every  tempting  snare, 

Heaven  calls,  and  I  must  go. 

>  Heaven  calls,  and  can  I  yet  delay? 
Can  ought  on  earth  engage  my  stay  ? 

Ah  !  wretched,  lingering  heart ! 
Come,  Lord,  with  strength,  and  life,  ann 
Assist  and  guide  my  upward  flight,    [light, 

And  bid  the  world  depart. 

MRS.  STEELE. 


51.  SICKNESS. 


1  When  languor  and  disease  invade 
This  trembling  house  of  clay, 
'Tis  sweet  to  look  beyond  the  cage, 
And  long  to  soar  away. 


70  SACRED   POET11Y. 

2  Sweet  to  look  inward,  and  attend 

The  whispers  of  his  love : 
Sweet  to  look  upward  to  the  throne, 
Where  Jesus  pleads  above. 

3  Sweet  to  look  back,  and  see  my  name 

In  life's  fair  book  mark'd  down ; 
Sweet  to  look  forward,  and  behold 
Eternal  joy  my  own. 

4  Sweet  to  reflect  how  grace  divine 

My  sins  on  Jesus  laid ; 
Sweet  to  remember  that  thy  death 
My  debt  of  suff'ring  paid. 

5  Sweet  on  thy  faithfulness  to  rest, 

Whose  love  can  never  end ; 
Sweet  on  thy  covenant  of  grace 
For  all  things  to  depend. 

6  Sweet,  in  the  confidence  of  faith, 

To  trust  thy  truth  divine  ; 
Sweet  to  lie  passive  in  thy  hands, 
And  have  no  will  but  thine. 

7  If  such  the  sweetness  of  the  streams, 

What  will  that  fountain  be, 
Where  saints  and  angels  draw  their  bliss 
Immediately  from  thee ! 

8  'Tis  sweet  to  rest  in  lively  hope, 

That,  when  my  change  shall  come, 


SACRED  POETRY.  7^ 

I  Angels  will  hover  round  my  bed, 

And  waft  my  spirit  home. 

'9  There  shall  my  disembodied  soul 
Behold  him  and  adore ; 
Be  with  his  likeness  satisfied, 
And  grieve  and  sin  no  more. 

10  Soon,  too,  my  slumb'ring  dust  shall  hear 
The  trumpet's  quickening  sound  ; 
And,  by  my  Saviour's  power  rebuilt, 
At  his  right  hand  be  found. 

II  If  such  the  views  which  grace  unfolds, 

Weak  as  it  is  below, 
What  raptures  must  the  church  above 
In  Jesus'  presence  know ! 

12  O  may  the  unction  of  these  truths 
For  ever  with  me  stay, 
Till,  from  her  sinful  cage  dismiss'd, 
My  spirit  flies  away ! 

TOPLADY. 


52.         LONGING  TO  DEPART. 

1  Ye  angels  who  stand  round  the  throne, 
And  view  my  Emmanuel's  face, 


72  SACRED  POETRY. 

In  rapturous  songs  make  him  known, 
Tune,  tune  your  soft  harps  to  his  praise : 
He  form'd  you  the  spirits  you  are, 
So  happy,  so  noble,  so  good ; 
When  others  sunk  down  in  despair, 
Confirm'd  by  his  power  ye  stood. 

2  Ye  saints  who  stand  nearer  than  they, 
And  cast  your  bright  crowns  at  his  feet, 
His  grace  and  his  glory  display, 

And  all  his  rich  mercy  repeat : 
He  snatch'd  you  from  hell  and  the  grave, 
He  ransom'd  from  death  and  despair : 
For  you  he  was  mighty  to  save, 
Almighty  to  bring  you  safe  there. 

3  O  when  will  the  period  appear, 
When  I  shall  unite  in  your  song  ? 
I'm  weary  of  lingering  here, 
And  I  to  your  Saviour  belong : 
I'm  fetter'd  and  chain'd  up  in  clay, 
I  struggle  and  pant  to  be  free ; 

I  long  to  be  soaring  away, 

My  God  and  my  Saviour  to.  see  ! 

I  I  want  to  put  on  my  attire, 

Wash'd  white  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb  j 

I  want  to  be  one  of  your  choir, 

And  tune  my  sweet  harp  to  his  name ; 


SACRED  POETIir.  *{3 

I  want — O  I  want  to  be  there, 
Where  sorrow  and  sin  hid  adieu ; 
Your  joy  and  your  friendship  to  share, 
To  wonder  and  worship  with  you ! 

MARIE  DE  FLEURY. 


53.  LONGING  TO  BE  WITH  CHRIST 

1  To  Jesus,  the  crown  of  my  hope, 
My  soul  is  in  haste  to  be  gone  ; 
O  bear  me,  ye  cherubim,  up, 
And  waft  me  away  to  his  throne. 

2  My  Saviour,  whom  absent  I  love  ; 
Whom,  not  having  seen,  I  adore  ; 
Whose  name  is  exalted  above 
All  glory,  dominion,  and  pow'r  : 

3  Dissolve  thou  these  bonds,  that  detair. 
My  soul  from  her  portion  in  thee  ; 
Ah  !  strike  off  this  adamant  chain, 
And  make  me  eternally  free. 

4  When  that  happy  era  begins, 
When  array'd  in  thy  glories  I  shine. 
Nor  grieve  any  more,  by  my  sins, 
The  bosom  on  which  I  recline  : 


74  SACRED  POETRY. 

5  O  then  shall  the  veil  be  removed, 

And  round  me  thy  brightness  be  pour'd  : 
I  shall  meet  him  whom  absent  I  lov'd, 
I  shall  see  whom  unseen  I  ador'd. 

6  And  then,  never  more  shall  the  fears, 
The  trials,  temptations,  and  woes, 
Which  darken  this  valley  of  tears, 
IntAide  on  my  blissful  repose- 

7  Or,  if  yet  remember'd  above, 
Remembrance  no  sadness  shall  raise ; 
They  will  be  but  new  signs  of  thy  love, 
New  themes  for  my  wonder  and  praise. 

8  Thus  the  strokes  which  from  sin  and  from 
Shall  set  me  eternally  free,  [pain, 
Will  but  strengthen  and  rivet  the  chain 
Which  binds  me,  my  Saviour,  to  thee. 

COWPER. 


54.  THE  CRUCIFIXION. 


I  Bound  upon  the  accursed  tree, 
Faint  and  bleeding  who  is  he  ? 
By  the  eyes  so  pale  and  dim, 
Streaming  blood  and  writhing  limb. 


SACRED  POETRY.  ]t 

By  the  flesh  with  scourges  torn, 
By  the  crown  of  twisted  thorn, 
By  the  side  so  deeply  pierced, 
By  the  baffled  burning  thirst, 
By  the  drooping  death  dew'd  brow, 
Son  of  Man  !  'tis  thou!  'tis  thou  ! 

2  Bound  upon  the  accursed  tree, 
Dread  and  awful  who  is  he  ? 
By  the  sun  at  noonday  pale, 
Shivering  rocks,  and  rending  veil, 
By  earth  that  trembled  at  his  doom, 
By  yonder  saints  who  burst  their  tomb, 
By  Eden,  promised  ere  he  died 

To  the  felon  at  his  side, 

Lord  !  our  suppliant  knees  we  bow, 

Son  of  God  !  'tis  thou  !  'tis  thou  '. 

3  Bound  upon  the  accursed  tree, 
Sad  and  dying,  who  is  he  ? 
By  the  last  and  bitter  cry, 
The  ghost  giv'n  up  in  agony ; 
By  the  lifeless  body  laid 

In  the  chambers  of  the  dead  ; 
By  the  mourners  come  to  weep 
Where  the  bones  of  Jesus  sleep ; 
Crucified  !  we  know  thee  now ; 
Son  of  Man  !  'tis  thou  !  'tis  thou  ! 

4  Bound  upon  the  accursed  tree, 
Dread  and  awful  who  is  he  ? 


76 


SACRED  POETRY. 


By  the  prayer  for  them  that  slew, 

"  Lord !  they  know  not  what  they  do  V 

By  the  spoil'd  and  empty  grave, 

By  the  souls  he  died  to  save, 

By  the  Conquest  he  hath  won, 

By  the  saints  before  his  throne, 

By  the  rainbow  round  his  brow, 

Son  of  God  !  'tis  thou  !  'tis  thou  ! 


55.       THE  DYING  CHRISTIAN. 


1   Deathless  principle,  arise  .' 
Soar,  thou  native  of  the  skies  I 
Pearl  of  price  by  Jesus  bought, 
To  his  glorious  likeness  wrought, 
Go,  to  shine  before  his  throne, 
Deck  his  mediatorial  crown  ; 
Go-,  his  triumph  to  adorn ; 
Made  for  God,  to  God  return. 

'"'  Lo,  he  beckons  from  on  high ! 
Fearless  to  his  presence  fly ; 
Thine  the  merit  of  his  blood, 
Thine  the  righteousness  of  God  ! 


SACRED  POETRY.  77 

Angels,  joyful  to  attend, 
Hovering  round  thy  pillow  bend ; 
Wait,  to  catch  the  signal  given, 
And  escort  thee  quick  to  heaven. 

Is  thy  earthly  house  distrest, 
Willing  to  retain  its  guest  ? 
'Tis  not  thou,  but  it,  must  die — 
Fly,  celestial  tenant,  fly ! 
Burst  thy  shackles,  drop  thy  clay, 
Sweetly  breathe  thyself  away. 
Singing  to  thy  crown  remove, 
Swift  of  wing,  and  fired  with  love. 

Shudder  not  to  pass  the  stream, 
Venture  all  thy  care  on  him, 
Him,  whose  dying  love  and  pow'r 
Still'd  its  tossing,  hush'd  its  war : 
Safe  as  the  expanded  wave, 
Gentle  as  the  summer's  eve ; 
Not  one  object  of  his  care 
Ever  suffer'd  shipwreck  there ! 

See  the  haven  full  in  view, 

Love  divine  shall  bear  thee  through ; 

Trust  to  that  propitious  gale, 

Weigh  thy  anchor,  spread  thy  sail ! 

Saints  in  glory  perfect  made, 

Wait  thy  passage  through  the  shade ! 


78  SACRED  POETRY. 

Ardent  for  thy  coming  o'er, 

See  they  throng  the  blissful  shore ! 

6  Mount,  their  transports  to  improve, 
Join  the  longing  choir  above, 
Swiftly  to  their  wish  be  given, 
Kindle  higher  joy  in  heaven  ! 
Such  the  prospects  that  arise 
To  the  dying  Christian's  eyes ! 
Such  the  glorious  vista  Faith 
Opens  through  the  shades  of  death  ! 


56.        CERTAINTY  OF  DEATH. 


1  He  who  sits  from  day  to  day, 
Where  the  prison'd  lark  is  hung, 
Heedless  of  his  loudest  lay, 
Hardly  knows  that  he  has  sung : 
Daily  visitations  come 
Publishing  to  all  aloud, 

Soon  the  grave  must  be  your  home, 
And  your  only  suit  a  shroud. 

2  But  the  monitory  strain, 
Oft  repeated  in  our  ears, 

Seems  to  sound  too  much  in  vain, 
Wins  no  notice,  wakes  no  fears. 


SACRED  POETRY.  79 

Pleasure's  call  attention  wins, 
Hear  it  often  as  we  may ; 
New  as  ever  seem  our  sins, 
Though  committed  every  day. 

3  Death  and  judgment,  heaven  and  hell, 
These  alone,  so  often  heard, 
No  more  move  us  than  the  bell, 
When  some  stranger  is  interr'd. 
Oh,  then,  ere  the  turf  or  tomb 
Cover  us  from  every  eye, 
Spirit  of  instruction  come, 
Make  us  learn  that  we  must  die  ! 

COWPER, 


57.  COMFORT  UNDER  AFFLICTION. 

1  When  gath'ring  clouds  around  I  view, 
And  days  are  dark,  and  friends  are  few  ; 
On  him  I  lean,  who,  not  in  vain, 
Experenc'd  every  human  pain. 

He  sees  my  griefs,  allays  my  fears, 
And  counts  and  treasures  up  my  tears. 

2  If  ought  should  tempt  my  soul  to  stray 
From  heavenly  wisdom's  narrow  way ; 
To  fly  the  good  1  would  pursue, 

Or  do  the  thing  I  would  not  do ; 


80  SACRED  POETRY. 

Still  He,  who  felt  temptation's  pow'r, 
Shall  guard  me  in  that  dang'rous  hour. 

3  If  wounded  love  my  bosom  swell,     , 
Despis'd  by  those  I  priz'd  too  well ; 
He  shall  his  pitying  aid  bestow, 
Who  felt  on  earth  severer  woe  ; 

At  once  betray'd,  denied,  or  fled, 
By  those  who  shar'd  his  daily  bread. 

4  When  vexing  thoughts  within  me  rise, 
And,  sore  dismay'd,  my  spirit  dies ; 
Yet  he  who  once  vouchsaf'd  to  bear 
The  sick'ning  anguish  of  despair, 
Shall  sweetly  soothe,  shall  gently  dry, 
The  throbbing  heart,  the  streaming  eye. 

5  When  mourning  o'er  some  stone  I  bend, 
Which  covers  all  that  was  a  friend  ; 
And  from  his  voice,  his  hand,  his  smile, 
Divides  me  for  a  little  while  ; 

Thou,  Saviour,  mark'st  the  tears  I  shed, 
For  Thou,  didst  weep  o'er  Laz'rus  dead. 

6  And,  O  !  when  I  have  safely  past 
Through  every  conflict  but  the  last ; 
Still,  still,  unchanging,  watch  beside 
My  painful  bed — for  thou  hast  died ; 
Then  point  to  realms  of  cloudless  day, 

And  wipe  the  latest  tear  away. 


SACRED  POETRY.  81 

58.  THE  DREAM. 


In  a  dream  of  the  night,  I  was  wafted  away, 

To  the  Muirlands  of  mist,  where  the  bless'd 
martyrs  lay ; 

There  Cameron's  sword  and  Bible  are  seen, 

Engrav'd  on  the  stone,  where  the  heather 
grows  green. 

[t  was  a  dream  of  the  ages  of  darkness  and 
blood, 

When  the  ministers'  home  were  the  moun- 
tains and  wood ; 

When  in  Wellwood's  dark  moorlands  the 
standard  of  Zion, 

All  bloody  and  torn,  'mong  the  heather  was 
lying : 

[t  was  morning,  and  summer's  bright  sun 
from  the  east, 

Lay  in  lovely  repose  on  the  green  mountain's 
breast ; 

}n  Wardlaw  and  Cairntable  the  clear  shin- 
ing dew 

jlisten'd  shene  'mong  the  heathbells  and 
mountain  flowers  blue ; 

^.nd  far  up  in  heaven,  in  the  clear  shining 
cloud, 

die  song  of  the  lark  was  melodious  and  loud? 
F 


82  SACRED  POETRY. 

And  in  Glenmnir's  dark  solitude,  lengthen'd 
and  deep, 

Were  the  whistling  of  plovers  and  the  bleat- 
ing of  sheep. 

AndWellwood's  sweet  valley  breath'd  nothing 
but  gladness. 

The  first  meadow  blooms  hung  in  beauty  and 
redness ; 

Its  daughters  were  happy  to  hail  the  re- 
turning, 

And  drink  the  delights  of  bright  July's  green 
morning. 

But,  ah  !  there  were  hearts  cherished  far 
other  feelings, 

Illum'd  by  the  light  of  prophetic  reveal- 
ings, 

Who  drank  nought  from  the  scenery  of  beauty 
but  sorrow, 

For  they  knew  that  their  blood  would  bedew 
it  to-morrow. 

'Twas  the  few  faithful  ones,  who  with  Cam- 
eron were  lying 

Conceal'd  'mong  the  mist,  where  the  heath- , 
fowl  were  crying, 

For  the  horsemen  of  Earlshall  around  them 
were  hovering, 

And  their  bridle  reins  seen  through  the  thin  i 
misty  covering. 


SACRED  POETRY.  83 

Their  faces  were  pale,  and  their  swords  were 

unsheathed, 
J3ut  the  vengeance  that  darkened  their  brow 

was  unbreathed ; 
With  eyes  raised  to  heaven,  in  meek  resig- 
nation, 
They  sung  their  last  song  to  the  God  of 

salvation. 
The  hills  with  the  deep  mournful  music  were 

ringing, 
The   curlew   and   plover   in   concert   were 

singing; 
But    the    melody   died   'mid    derision    and 

laughter, 
While  the  hosts  of  th'  ungodly  rushed  on  to 

the  slaughter. 
Though  in  mist,  and  in  darkness,  and  fire 

they  were  shrouded, 
Yet  the  souls  of  the  righteous  were  calm 

and  unclouded  ; 
Their  dark  eyes  shot  lightning,  as,  proud  and 

unbending, 
They  stood  like  the  rock  which  the  lightning 

is  rending. 
The  muskets  were  flashing,  the  blue  swords 

were  gleaming, 
The  helmets  were  cleft,  and  the  red  blood 

was  streaming  j 


84  SACEED  POETRY. 

The  heavens  were  dark,  and  the  thunder 
was  rolling, 

While  in  Wellwood's  dark  moorlands  the 
mighty  were  falling. — 

When  the  righteous  had  fallen,  and  the  com- 
bat was  ended, 

A  chariot  of  fire  through  the  dark  cloud 
descended, 

Its  attendants  were  angels,  and  cherubs  of 
whiteness, 

And  its  burning  wheels  turned  upon  axles 
of  brightness ; 

A  seraph  unfolded  the  doors  bright  and 
shining, 

All  dazzling  like  gold  of  the  seventh  refin- 
ing-. 

And  the  souls  that  came  forth  out  of  great 
tribulation, 

Have  mounted  the  chariot  and  steeds  of 
salvation. 

On  the  arch  of  the  rainbow  the  chariot  is 
gliding, 

Through  the  paths  of  the  thunder  the  horse- 
men are  riding. 

Glide  swiftly,  bright  spirits,  the  prize  is 
before  ye, 

A  crown  never  fading,  a  kingdom  of  glory. 

HISLOP. 


SACRED  POETRY.  85 

59.  'THISDOINREMEMBRANCEOFME.' 

1  If  human  kindness  meets  return, 

And  owns  the  grateful  tie ; 
If  tender  thoughts  within  us  burn, 
To  feel  a  friend  is  nigh : 

2  O  !  shall  not  warmer  accents  tell 

The  gratitude  we  owe 
To  Him  who  died,  our  fears  to  quell. 
Our  more  than  orphan's  woe ! 

3  While  yet  his  anguish'd  soul  survey'd 

Those  pangs  he  would  not  flee ; 
What  love  his  latest  words  display'd, 
"  Meet  and  remember  me  !" 

4  Remember  Thee  !  thy  death,  thy  shame, 

Our  sinful  hearts  to  share  ! 
O  memory,  leave  no  other  name 
But  His  recorded  there ! 

NOEL- 


60.  RESIGNATION. 

1  These  hearts,  alas !  cleave  to  the  dust 
By  strong  and  endless  ties  ; 
"Whilst  ev'ry  sorrow  cut/5  a  string, 
And  urges  us  to  rise. 


86  SACRED  POETRY. 

2  When  Heaven  would  kindly  set  us  fi 

And  earth's  enchantment  end  ; 
It  takes  the  most  effectual  way, 
And  robs  us  of  a  friend. 

3  Resign — and  all  the  load  of  life 

That  moment  you  remove  ; 
Its  heavy  load,  ten  thousand  cares, 
Devolve  on  One  above — 

4.  Who  bids  us  lay  our  burden  down 
On  his  Almighty  hand  ; 
Softens  our  duty  to  relief, 
To  blessing  a  command. 


ree. 


YOUNG. 


61.  THE  SAME. 


1  In  trouble  and  in  grief,  O  God, 

Thy  smile  hath  cheer'd  my  way ; 
And  joy  hath  budded  from  each  thorn 
That  round  my  footsteps  lay. 

2  The  hours  of  pain  have  yielded  good, 

Which  prosp'rous  days  refus'd ; 
As  herbs,  though  scentless  when  entire, 
Spread  fragrance  when  they're  bruis'd. 


SACRED  POETRY.  87 

3  The  oak  strikes  deeper,  as  its  boughs 

By  furious  blasts  are  driv'n : 
So  life's  vicissitudes  the  more 
Have  fixed  my  heart  in  heav'n. 

4  All-gracious  Lord !  whate'er  my  lot 

In  other  times  may  be, 
I'll  welcome  still  the  heaviest  grief 
That  brings  me  near  to  thee. 

K-  P. 


62.        LIGHT  ARISING  OUT  OF 
DARKNESS. 


1  Children  of  God,  who,  pacing  slow, 

Your  pilgrim  path  pursue, 
In  strength  and  weakness,  joy  and  woe, 
To  God's  high  calling  true — 

2  Why  move  ye  thus,  with  ling'ring  tread 

A  doubtful,  mournful  band  ? 
Why  faintly  hangs  the  drooping  head? 
Why  fails  the  feeble  hand  ? 

3  Oh  !  weak  to  know  a  Saviour's  power, 

To  feel  a  Father's  care ; 
A  moment's  toil,  a  passing  show'r, 
Is  all  the  grief  ye  share. 


88  SACRED  POETRY. 

4  The  Lord  of  Light,  though,  veil'd  awhile, 

He  hides  his  noontide  ray, 
Shall  soon  in  lovelier  beauty  smile, 
To  gild  the  closing  day  ; 

5  And,  bursting  through  the  dusky  shroud, 

That  dar'd  his  pow'r  invest, 
Ride  thron'd  in  light  o'er  ev'ry  cloud, 
And  guide  you  to  his  rest. 

eowdler. 


63.  WALKING  WITH  GOD. 

1  Oh  !  for  a  closer  walk  with  God, 

A  calm  and  heavenly  frame  ; 

A  light,  to  shine  upon  the  road 

That  leads  me  to  the  Lamb  ! 

2  Where  is  the  blessedness  I  knew, 

"When  first  I  saw  the  Lord  ? 
Where  is  the  soul-refreshing  view 
Of  Jesus  and  his  word  ? 

3  What  peaceful  hours  I  once  enjoy'd ! 

How  sweet  their  mem'ry  still! 
But  they  have  left  an  aching  void 
The  world  can  never  fill. 

4  Return,  O  holy  dove  !  return, 

Sweet  messenger  of  rest  j 


SACRED  rOETRY.  89 

I  hate  the  sins  that  made  thee  mourn, 
And  drove  thee  from  my  breast. 

The  dearest  idol  I  have  known, 

Whate'er  that  idol  be, 
Help  me  to  tear  it  from  thy  throne, 

And  worship  only  thee. 

So  shall  my  walk  be  close  with  God, 

Calm  and  serene  my  frame ; 
So  purer  light  shall  mark  the  road 

That  leads  me  to  the  Lamb. 

COWPER. 


64.    THE  BELIEVER^  SAFETY. 


1  Incarnate  God  !  the  soul  that  knows 

Thy  name's  mysterious  power, 
Shall  dwell  in  undisturb'd  repose, 
Nor  fear  the  trying  hour. 

2  Thy  wisdom,  faithfulness,  and  love, 

To  feeble,  helpless  worms, 

A  buckler  and  a  refuge  prove 

From  enemies  and  storms. 

3  In  vain  the  fowler  spreads  his  net, 

To  draw  them  from  thy  care ; 


90  SACRED  POETRY. 

Thy  timely  call  instructs  their  feet 
To  shun  the  artful  snare. 

4>  When,  like  a  baneful  pestilence, 
Sin  mows  its  thousands  down, 
On  ev'ry  side  without  defence, 
Thy  grace  secures  thine  own. 

5  No  midnight  terrors  haunt  their  bed, 

No  arrow  wounds  by  day; 
Unhurt  on  serpents  they  shall  tread, 
If  found  in  duty's  way. 

6  Angels  unseen  attend  the  saints, 

And  bear  them  in  their  arms, 
To  cheer  their  spirit  when  it  faints 
And  guard  their  life  from  harms. 

7  The  Angels'  Lord  himself  is  nigh 

To  them  that  love  his  name, 
Ready  to  save  them  when  they  cry, 
And  put  their  foes  to  shame. 

8  Crosses  and  changes  are  their  lot, 

Long  as  they  sojourn  here  ; 
But  since  their  Saviour  changes  not, 
What  have  the  saints  to  fear  ? 


NEWTON. 


SACRED  POETRY.       91 


65.  RETIREMENT. 


1  Far  from  the  world,  O  Lord  !  I  flee, 

From  strife  and  tumult  far ; 
From  scenes  where  Satan  wages  still 
His  most  successful  war. 

2  The  calm  retreat,  the  silent  shade, 
With  pray'r  and  praise  agree  ; 

And  seem,  by  thy  sweet  bounty,  made 
For  those  who  follow  thee. 

3  There,  if  thy  Spirit  touch  the  soul, 
And  grace  her  mean  abode, 

Oh  !  with  what  peace,  and  joy,  and  love. 
She  communes  with  her  God  ! 

4  There,  like  the  nightingale,  she  pours 

Her  solitary  lays  ; 
Nor  asks  a  witness  of  her  song, 
Nor  thirsts  for  human  praise. 

5  Author  and  Guardian  of  my  life, 

Sweet  source  of  light  divine  ; 
And  (all  harmonious  names  in  one,) 
My  Saviour,  thou  art  mine  ! 


92  SACRED  POETRY. 

6  What  thanks  I  owe  thee,  and  what  love 
A  boundless,  endless  store, 
Shall  echo  through  the  realms  above, 
When  time  shall  be  no  more. 


66.  RETROSPECTION. 


1  When  darkly  to  the  eye  of  truth 
Unfolds  the  retrospect  of  youth ; 
And  sins  unnumber'd  barb  their  dart, 
And  bid  it  fester  in  the  heart : 

2  When  jarring  passions  wound  the  soul, 
Impatient  of  their  wild  control ; 

And  oft  the  weary  spirit  bends, 
To  ask  the  aid  Religion  lends  : 

3  When  Mem'ry  pours  the  silent  tear, 
And  seeks  the  friend  who  once  was  near, 
The  kindred  friend  too  quickly  fled, 
Too  early  number'd  with  the  dead  ! 

4  O  then,  by  fervent  pray'r,  apply 

To  Him  whose  arm  brings  succour  nigh : 
He  has  himself  known  sorrow's  pow'r, 
And  shudder'd  in  the  stormy  hour. 


SACRED  POETRY.  93 

15  Touch'd  with  the  feeling  of  thy  woe, 
:    He  sees  the  thoughts  which  sink  thee  low ; 
;    From  climes  of  bliss  bends  down  his  ear, 
And  all  thy  anguish  deigns  to  hear. 

.3  Go  then  !  address  his  throne  of  love  ! 

There  trace  thy  pardon  seal'd  above  ! 

There  find  in  him  sweet  peace  arise, 
:    And  mark  the  Friend  who  never  dies  ! 


67- 


RELIGION. 


1  Through  shades  and  solitudes  profound, 
The  fainting  traveller  wends  his  way : 
Bewild'ring  meteors  glare  around, 

And  tempt  his  wand'ring  feet  astray. 

2  Welcome,  thrice  welcome  to  his  eye, 
The  sudden  moon's  inspiring  light, 
When  forth  she  sallies  through  the  sky 
The  guardian  angel  of  the  night. 

3  Thus  mortals,  blind  and  weak  below, 
Pursue  the  phantom  bliss  in  vain ; 
The  world's  a  wilderness  of  woe, 
And  life's  a  pilgrimage  of  pain  ! 


94  SACRED  POETRY. 

4  Till  mild  Religion  from  above 
Descends,  a  sweet  engaging  form, 
The  messenger  of  heav'nly  love, 
The  bow  of  promise  'mid  the  storm. 

5  Ambition,  pride,  revenge  depart, 
And  folly  flies  her  chast'ning  road  ; 
She  makes  the  humble  contrite  heart 
A  temple  of  the  living  God. 

6  Beyond  the  narrow  vale  of  time, 
Where  bright  celestial  ages  roll, 
To  scenes  eternal,  scenes  sublime, 
She  points  the  way  and  leads  the  soul. 

7  At  her  approach,  the  grave  appears 
The  gate  of  paradise  restor'd ; 

Her  voice  the  watching  cherub  hears, 
And  drops  his  double  flaming  sword. 

8  Baptiz'd  with  her  renewing  fire, 
May  we  the  crown  of  glory  gain  ; 
Rise  when  the  hosts  of  heaven  expire. 
And  reign  with  God  for  ever  reign  J 

MONTGOMERY. 


SACRED  POETRY.       95 


SO.  THE  STILL,  SMALL  VOICE. 

1  He  cometh,  He  cometh,  the  Lord  pass- 

eth  by ; 
The  mountains  are  rending,  the  tempest 

is  nigh  ; 
The  wind  is  tumultuous,  the  rocks  are 

o'ercast  ; 
But  the  Lord  of  the  Prophet  is  not  in 

the  blast. 

2  He  cometh,  He  cometh,  the  Lord,  He 

is  near, 

The  earth  it  is  reeling,  all  nature's  in  fear  ; 

The  earthquake's  approaching  with  terri- 
ble form ; 

But  the  Lord  of  Sabaoth  is  not  in  the 
storm. 

3  He  cometh,  He  cometh,  the  Lord  is  in  ire  ; 
The  smoke  is  ascending,  the  mount  is  on 

fire; 
O  say  is  Jehovah  revealing  His  name  ! 
He  is  near,  but  Jehovah  is  not  in  the 

flame, 

4  He  cometh,  He  cometh,  the  tempest  is 

o'er, 
He  is  come,  neither  tempest  nor  storm 
shall  be  more, 


96  SACRED  POETRY. 

All  nature  reposes,  earth,  ocean,  and  sky, 
Are  still  as  the  voice  that  descends  from 
on  high. 

5  How  sweet  to  the  soul  are  the  breathings 

of  peace, 

When  the  still  voice  of  pardon  bids  sor- 
row to  cease, 

When  the  welcome  of  mercy  falls  soft 
on  the  ear, 

"  Come  hither  ye  laden — ye  weary  draw 
near." 

6  There  is  rest  for  the  soul  that  on  Jesus 

relies, 

There's  a  home  for  the  homeless,  prepar- 
ed in  the  skies, 

There's  a  joy  in  believing,  a  hope  and  a 
stay, 

That  the  world  cannot  give  nor  the  world 
take  away. 

7  O  had  I  the  wings  of  a  dove,  I  would  fly, 
And  mount  on  the  pinions  of  faith  to  the 

sky, 

Where  the  still  and  small  breathing  to 
earth  that  was  given, 

Shall  be  changed  to  the  anthem  and  cho- 
rus of  heaven. 

WM.  M'COMB. 


SACKED  POETRY.  97 

39-       CHRISTIAN  FRIENDSHIP. 


1  Nor  for  thee,  nor  for  me,  was  earth's 

valley  decreed, 

Nor  its  visions  of  tasteless  delight ; 
For  our  pinions  are  spread,  and  our  fet- 
ters are  freed, 

For  a  higher — a  heavenlier  flight. 

2  From  the  sorrowful  scenes  of  this  world 

and  its  woes, 

From  the  dungeons  and  glooms  of  to-day, 
To  those  regions  of  hope,  whose  resplen- 
dency throws 

O'er  the  future  the  past's  dearest  ray. 

3  O  my  friend !  what  a  hope  have  I  nursed 

in  this  lay, 
What  a  joy  round  our  being  it  throws, 
While  the  path  of  our  hope,  where  we 

tranquilly  stray, 
With  the  light  of  eternity  glows  ! 

i  In  that  path  be  thou  near  me,  and  while 
I  aspire, 
Thou  shalt  calm  all  the  thoughts  that 
repine; 

G 


98  SACRED  POETRY. 

One  in  blood,  in  belief,  one  in  hope  and 
desire, 
And  the  pinions  that  waft  me  are  thine. 

5  In  the  desert  that  leads  to  the  grave  and 
its  rest, 
Is  thy  friendship  a  moistening  shower ; 
In  the  tempests  which  life's  rugged  path- 
way molest, 
Is  that  friendship  a  sheltering  bower. 

DA  COSTA. 


70.  HEBREW  HYMN. 


1  When  Israel,  of  the  Lord  belov'd, 
Out  from  the  land  of  bondage  came, 
Her  father's  God  before  her  mov'd, 
An  awful  guide,  in  smoke  and  flame. 
By  day  along  the  astonish'd  lands 
The  cloudy  pillar  glided  slow  ; 

By  night  Arabia's  crimson'd  sands 
Return'd  the  fiery  column's  glow. 

2  There  rose  the  choral  hymn  of  praise, 
And  trump  and  timbrel  answer'd  keen  ; 
And  Zion's  daughters  pour'd  their  lays, 
With  priests'  and  warriors'  voice  between, 


SACRED  POETRY.  99 

No  portents  now  our  foes  amaze, 
Forsaken  Israel  wanders  lone  : 
Our  fathers  would  not  know  Thy  ways, 
And  Thou  hast  left  them  to  their  own. 

3  But  present  still,  though  now  unseen, 
When  brightly  shines  the  prosp'rous  day, 
Be  thoughts  of  Thee  a  cloudy  screen, 
To  temper  the  deceitful  ray. 
And  Oh  !  when  stoops  on  Judah's  path, 
In  shade  and  storm,  the  frequent  night ; 
Be  Thou,  long-suff'ring,  slow  to  wrath, 
A  burning  and  a  shining  light ! 

Our  harps  we  left  by  Babel's  streams, 
The  tyrant's  jest,  the  Gentile's  scorn  ; 
No  censer  round  our  altar  beams, 
And  mute  are  timbrel,  trump,  and  horn. 
But  Thou  hast  said,  The  blood  of  goat, 
The  flesh  of  rams,  I  will  not  prize : 
A  contrite  heart,  a  humble  thought, 
Are  more  accepted  sacrifice. 

SIR  WALTER  SCOTT. 


fl.  DESTRUCTION  OF  THE  ASSYRIANS. 

I  The  Assyrian  came  down  like  the  wolf 

on  the  fold,     •  •,         [and  gold; 

And  his  cohorts  were  gleaming  ia  purple 


100  SACRED  POETRY. 

And  the  sheen  of  their  spears  was  like 

stars  on  the  sea, 
When  the  blue    wave   rolls   nightly   on 

deep  Galilee. 

2  Like  the  leaves  of  the  forest  when  sum- 

mer is  green, 
That  host  with  their  banners  at  sunset 

were  seen  ; 
Like  the  leaves  of  the  forest  when  autumn 

hath  blown, 
That  host  on  the  morrow  lay  wither'd  and 

strown. 

3  For  the  Angel  of  Death  spread  his  wings 

on  the  blast, 
And  breath'd  on  the  face  of  the  foe  as  he 

pass'd, 
And  the  eyes  of  the  sleepers  wax'd  deadly 

and  chill, 
And  their  hearts  but  once  heav'd,  and  for 

ever  grew  still. 

4  And  there  lay  the  steed  with  his  nostril 

all  wide, 
But  through  it  there  roll'd  not  the  breath 

of  his  pride ; 
And  the  foam  of  his  gasping  lay  white  on 

the  turf. 
And  cold  as  the  spray  of  the  rock-beating 

surf. 


SACRED  POETKY.  101 

5  And  there  lay  the  rider  distorted  and  pale, 
With  the  dew  on  his  brow,  and  the  rust 

on  his  mail : 

And  the  tents  were  all  silent,  the  banners 
alone, 

The  lances  unlifted,  the  trumpet  un- 
blown. 

6  And  the  widows  of  Ashur  are  loud  in 

their  wail, 
And  the  idols  are  broke  in  the  temple  of 

Baal; 
And  the  might  of  the  Gentile,  unsmote 

by  the  sword, 
Hath  melted  like  snow  in  the  glance  of 

the  Lord. 

HEBREW  MELODY. 


T9 


1%.       THE  HARP  OF  JUDAH. 


1  Sweet  harp  of  Judah  !  shall  thy  sound 
No  more  be  heard  on  earthly  ground, 
Nor  mortal  raise  the  lay  again, 

That  rung  through  Judah's  sainted  reign  ? 

2  No — for  to  higher  worlds  belong 
The  wonders  of  thy  sacred  song : 


102  SACRED  POETRY. 

Thy    prophet -bards    might    sweep    thy 

chords, 
Thy  glorious  burthen  was  the  Lord's. 

3  Thy  lay,  descending  from  above, 

Full  fraught  with  justice,  truth,  and  love ; 
His  Spirit  breath'd  and  mingled  there 
As  much  of  heaven  as  earth  could  bear. 

4  Kind  was  its  tone— its  warning  plain ; 
But  rebel  Israel  scorn'd  the  strain ; 
Proud,  careless,  unabash'd,  they  trod, 
Nor  own'd  the  voice  of  Zion's  God. 

5  Then  fell  at  length  his  vengeful  stroke  ; 
The  necks  that  scorn'd  to  bend  he  broke ; 
The  shrine  his  hand  had  guarded  well, 
Himself  destroyed— and  Zion  fell. 

6  Final  and  unretriev'd  her  fall ; 

The  heathen  ploughshare  raz'd  her  wall ; 
And  o'er  the  race  of  Judah's  kings 
Rome's  conqu'ring  eagle  clapp'd  her  wings. 

7  Yet  harp  of  Judah  !  rung  thy  strain, 
And  woke  thy  glories  not  in  vain ; 
Yet,  though  in  dust  thy  frame  be  hurl'd, 
Thy  spirit  rules  a  wider  world. 

8  Though  faintly  swell  thy  notes  sublime, 
Far  distant— down  the  stream  of  lime; 


SACRED  POETRY.  103 

Yet,  to  our  ears  the  sounds  are  giv'n, 
And  e'en  thy  echo  tells  of  heav'n. 

9  Thro'  worlds  remote — the  old — the  new ; 
Thro'  realms  nor  Rome  nor  Israel  knew ; 
The  Christian  hears — and,  by  thy  tone, 
Sweet  harp  of  Judah !  tunes  his  own. 

L.  B. 


73.  "  WE  WEPT  WHEN  WE  REMEM- 


1  Oh  !  weep  for  those  that  wept  by  Babel's 

stream, 
Whose  shrines  are  desolate,  whose  Jand  a 

dream  ; 
Weep  for  the  harp  of    Judah's  broken 

shell ; 
Mourn — where  their  God  hath  dwelt  the 

godless  dwell. 

2  And  where  shall  Israel  lave  her  bleeding 

feet? 
And  when  shall  Zion's  songs  again  seem 

sweet? 
And  Judah's  melody  once  more  rejoice 
The  hearts  that  leap'd  before  its  heavenly 

voice  ? 


104  SACRED  POETRY. 

3  Tribes  of  the  wand'ring  foot  and  weary 

breast, 
How  shall  ye  flee  away  and  be  at  rest  ? 
The  wil-d  dove  hath  her  nest,  the  fox  his 

cave, 
Mankind  their  country — Israel   but    the 

grave ! 

HEBREW  MELODY* 


74.  THE  NATIVITY. 


1  When  Jordan  hush'd  his  waters  still, 
And  silence  slept  on  Zion  hill ; 

When  Bethlehem's  shepherds  through  the 

night 
Watch'd  o'er  their  flocks  by  starry  light : 

2  Hark !  from  the  midnight  hills  around, 
A  voice  of  more  than  mortal  sound, 
In  distant  hallelujahs  stole, 

Wild  murm'ring  o'er  the  raptur'd  soul. 

3  Then  swift  to  every  startled  eye, 
New  streams  of  glory  light  the  sky ; 
Heav'n  bursts  her  azure  gates  to  pour 
Her  spirits  to  the  midnight  hour. 


SACRED  POETRY.  105 

4  On  wheels  of  light,  on  wings  of  flame, 
The  glorious  hosts  of  Zion  came  : 
High  heav'n  with  songs  of  triumph  rung, 
While  thus  they  struck  their  harps  and 
sung: 

I  5  O  Zion  !  lift  thy  raptur'd  eye. 
The  long  expected  hour  is  nigh  ; 
The  joys  of  nature  rise  again, 
The  Prince  of  Salem  comes  to  reign. 

6  See,  Mercy  from  her  golden  urn 

Pours  a  rich  stream  to  them  that  mourn  ; 
Behold,  she  binds,  with  tender  care, 
The  bleeding  bosom  of  despair. 

7  He  comes,  to  cheer  the  trembling  heart, 
Bids  Satan  and  his  host  depart ; 
Again  the  Day-star  gilds  the  gloom, 
Again  the  bowers  of  Eden  bloom  ! 

8  O  Zion  !  lift  thy  raptur'd  eye, 
The  long-expected  hour  is  nigh  : 
The  joys  of  nature  rise  again, 

The  Prince  of  Salem  comes  to  reign. 

T.  CAMPJ3ELL. 


75.     "    BLESSED     ARE     THE    DEAD 
THAT  DIE  IX  THE  LORD.™ 

1   Hark  !  a  voice,  it  cries  from  heav'n, 
Happy  in  the  Lord  who  die  ; 


106  SACRED  POETRY. 

Happy  they  to  whom  'tis  given, 
From  a  world  of  grief  to  fly ! 

They  indeed  are  truly  blest ; 

From  their  labours  then  they  rest. 

2  All  their  toils  and  conflicts  over, 
Lo  !  they  dwell  with  Christ  above ; 
O  !  what  glories  they  discover 

In  the  Saviour  whom  they  love  ! 
Now  they  see  him  face  to  face. 
Him  who  saved  them  by  his  grace. 

3  'Tis  enough,  enough  for  ever, 
'Tis  his  people's  bright  reward  ; 
They  are  blest  indeed  who  never 
Shall  be  absent  from  their  Lord  ! 

O  !  that  we  may  die  like  those 
Who  in  Jesus  then  repose ! 


KELLY. 


76. 


THE  ROCK  OF  AGES. 


1  Rock  of  Ages,  cleft  for  me, 
Let  me  hide  myself  in  thee ; 

Let  the  water  and  the  blood, 

From  thy  riven  side  which  flow'd, 

Be  of  sin  the  double  cure, 

Cleanse  me  from  its  guilt  and  power  I 


SACRED  POETRY.  107 

2  Not  the  labour  of  my  hands 

Can  fulfil  thy  law's  demands ; 
Could  my  zeal  no  respite  know, 

Could  my  tears  for  ever  flow, 
All  for  sin  could  not  atone  : 

Thou  must  save,  and  thou  alone  ! 

3  Nothing  in  my  hand  I  bring, 

Simply  to  thy  Cross  I  cling  : 
Naked,  come  to  thee  for  dress : 

Helpless,  look  to  thee  for  grace  ; 
Foul,  I  to  the  fountain  fly ; 

Wash  me,  Saviour,  or  I  die. 

I  While  I  draw  this  fleeting  breath, 
When  my  eyelids  close  in  death, 

When  I  soar  to  worlds  unknown, 
See  Thee  on  thy  judgment-throne, 

Rock  of  Ages  cleft  for  me, 
Let  me  hide  myself  in  thee ! 

TOPLADY. 


77*  THE  GRACE  OF  GOD, 


t  Mark  where  the  wave  at  eventide, 
In  seeming  slumber  lies  ; 
Mark  how  its  glassy  face  reflects 
The  richly-painted  skies. 


108  SACRED  POETRY. 

2  The  brightest  hues  of  heaven  there 

In  faint  resemblance  shine, 
Though  oft  the  passing  ripple  breaks 
The  beautiful  design. 

3  So,  when  redeeming  love  hath  sooth'd 

Man's  stormy  soul  to  rest ; 

No  more  by  raging  passion  toss'd, 

By  anxious  sorrow  press'd ; 

4  Cold  and  unstable  in  himself 

As  yonder  changeful  waves, 
His  bosom  still  reflects  to  heaven, 
The  image  it  receives. 

5  He  feels  a  love,  by  love  inspired, 

Returning  whence  it  came, 

That  can  surrender  all  for  One 

Who  left  so  much  for  him. 

6  And  there  is  joy — the  joy  of  One, 

Who,  from  a  state  of  bliss, 
Looks  back  upon  the  awful  depth 
Of  wrath  that  once  was  his  : 

7  Peace  such  as  earth  has  none  to  give, 

The  peace  of  sin  forgiv'n  ; 
Of  hopes  exalted  from  the  world, 
And  bliss  secured  in  heaven : 

8  Faith  that  can  rest  upon  her  God, 

However  dark  his  ways ; 


SACRED  POETRY.  109 

While  reason  questions  of  his  word, 

Believes  it — and  obeys  : 
Patience,  forbearance,  gentleness, 

The  offspring  all  of  heav'n, 
Such  as  befit  a  contrite  soul, 

Mindful  of  sins  forgiv'n  : 

0  These,  and  whatever  else  may  seem 
Most  beautiful,  most  fair, 
Serenely  beaming  on  the  soul, 
Will  trace  their  image  there. 

MISSC.  FRY 


r8.  EVENING  HYMN. 

What  though  my  frail  eyelids  refuse 
Continual  watchings  to  keep, 
And,  punctual  as  midnight  renews, 
Demand  the  refreshment  of  sleep  ; 
A  sov'reign  protector  I  have, 
Unseen,  yet  for  ever  at  hand ; 
Unchangeably  faithful  to  save, 
Almighty  to  rule  and  command. 

I  From  evil  secure,  and  its  dread, 
I  rest,  if  my  Saviour  is  nigh  ;  _ 
And  songs,"  his  kind  presence  indeed, 
Shall  in  the  night  season  supply. 


110  SACRED  POETRY. 

He  smiles,  and  my  comforts  abound; 
His  grace  as  the  dew  shall  descend, 
And  walls  of  salvation  surround 
The  soul  he  delights  to  defend. 

3  Kind  Author  and  Ground  of  my  hope, 
Thee,  thee,  for  my  God  I  avow ; 
My  glad  Ebenezer  set  up, 
And  own  thou  hast  help'd  m&  till  now : 
I  muse  on  the  years  that  are  past, 
"Wherein  my  defence  thou  hast  prov'd ; 
JNor  wilt  thou  relinquish  at  last 
A  sinner  so  signally  lov'd. 


SECOND    PART. 


1  Inspires,  and  Hearer  of  prayer, 
Thou  Feeder  and  Guardian  of  thine ! 
My  all  to  thy  covenant  care 

I  sleeping  and  waking  resign  -. 
If  thou  art  my  Shield  and  my  Sun 
The  night  is  no  darkness  to  me ; 
And  fast  as  my  moments  roll  on, 
They  bring  me  but  nearer  to  thee. 

2  Thy  minist'ring  spirits  descend, 

T'j  watch  while  thy  saints  are  asleep ; 


SACRED  POETRY.  Ill 

By  day  and  by  night  they  attend, 
The  heirs  of  salvation  to  keep  ; 
Bright    seraphs,     dispatch"d     from     the 
Repair  to  the  stations  assign'd,      [throne. 
And  angels  elect  are  sent  down, 
To  guard  the  elect  of  mankind. 

Thy  worship  no  interval  knows, 
Their  fervour  is  still  on  the  wing-: 
And  while  they  protect  my  repose, 
They  chaunt  to  the  praise  of  my  King : 
I  too,  at  the  season  ordain'd, 
Their  chorus  for  ever  shall  join, 
And  love,  and  adore,  without  end, 
Their  faithful  Creator,  and  mine. 

TOPLADY. 


79- 


THE  CROSS. 


1  We  sing  the  praise  of  Him  who  died, 
Of  Him  who  died  upon  the  cross ; 
The  sinner's  hope  let  men  deride, 
For  this  we  count  the  world  but  loss, 

8  InscribM  upon  the  cross  we  see, 
In  shining  letters,  "  God  is  Love." 
He  bears  our  sins  upon  the  tree, 
He  brings  us  mercy  from  above. 


112  SACRED  POETRY 

3  The  Cross  !  it  takes  our  guilt  away, 
It  holds  the  fainting  spirit  up ; 

It  cheers  with  hope  the  gloomy  day, 
And  sweetens  every  bitter  cup. 

4  It  makes  the  coward  spirit  brave, 
And  nerves  the  feeble  arm  for  fight ; 
It  takes  its  terrors  from  the  grave, 
And  gilds  the  bed  of  death  with  light. 

5  The  balm  of  life,  the  cure  of  woe, 
The  measure  and  the  pledge  of  love ; 
'Tis  all  that  sinners  want  below, 
5Tis  all  that  angels  know  above. 

KELLY. 


80.      DEATH  OF  A  CHRISTIAN. 


1  How  sweetly  parts  the  Christian  sun, 

Just  like  the  summer  monarch  set, 
'Midst  cloudless  skies  his  journey  done, 
To  rise  in  brighter  regions  yet. 

2  O  where  the  Christian  ends  his  days, 
Lingers  a  lovely  line  of  rays, 

That  speaks  his  calm  departure  blest, 
And  promises  to  those  who  gaze, 
The  same  beatitude  of  rest. 

EDMESTON. 


SACRED  POETRY.  113 

81.  COMFORT  IN  PROSPECT  OP  DEATH. 


1  Let  reason  vainly  boast  her  pow'r 
To  teach  her  children  how  to  die ; 
The  sinner,  in  a  dying  hour, 
Needs  more  than  reason  can  supply : 
A  view  of  Christ,  the  sinner's  Friend, 
Alone  can  cheer  him  in  the  end. 

2  When  nature  sinks  beneath  disease, 
And  every  earthly  hope  is  fled, 
What  then  can  give  the  sinner  ease, 
And  make  him  love  a  dying  bed ! 
Jesus  !  thy  smile  his  heart  can  cheer ; 
He's  blest  ev'n  then,  if  thou  art  near. 

3  The  Gospel  does  salvation  bring> 
And  Jesus  is  the  Gospel  theme  ; 
In  death,  redeemed  sinners  sing, 
And  triumph  in  the  Saviour's  name  : 

"  O  death,  where  is  thy  sting?"  they  cry, 
"  O  grave,  where  is  thy  victory  ?" 

4  Then  let  me  die  the  death  of  those 
Whom  Jesus  washes  in  his  blood, 
Who  on  his  faithfulness  repose, 
And  know  that  he  indeed  is  God. 
Around  his  throne  we  all  shall  meet, 
And  cast  our  crowns  beneath  his  feet. 

KELLY. 
H 


114  SACRED  POETRY. 

82.  VANITY  OF  WORLDLY 

PLEASURES. 


1  I  quit  the  world's  fantastic  joys, 
Her  honours  are  but  empty  toys, 

Her  bliss  an  empty  shade : 
Like  meteors  in  the  midnight  sky, 
That  glitter  for  a  while  and  die, 

Her  glories  flash  and  fade. 

2  Let  fools  for  riches  strive  and  toil, 
Let  greedy  minds  divide  the  spoil, 

'Tis  all  too  mean  for  me  : 
Above  the  earth,  above  the  skies, 
My  bold  and  fervent  wishes  rise, 

My  God,  to  heav'n  and  thee. 

3  O  source  of  glory,  life,  and  love  ! 
When  to  thy  courts  I  mount  above, 

On  contemplation's  King, 
I  look  with  pity  and  disdain 
On  all  the  pleasures  of  the  vain, 

On  all  the  pomp  of  kings. 

4  Thy  beauties  rising  in  my  sight, 
Divinely  sweet,  divinely  bright, 

With  rapture  fill  my  breast 


SACRED  POETRY.  115 

Though  robb'd  of  all  my  worldly  store, 
In  thee  I  never  can  be  poor, 
But  must  be  ever  blest. 

DR.  MORE. 


83.    COMMUNION  WITH   CHRIST. 


1  When  in  the  hours  of  lonely  woe, 
I  give  my  sorrows  leave  to  flow ; 
And  anxious  fear  and  dark  distrust 
Weigh  down  my  spirit  to  the  dust ; 

2  When  not  e'en  friendship's  gentle  aid 
Can  heal  the  wounds  the  world  has  made, 
O  this  shall  check  each  rising  sigh, 
That  Jesus  is  for  ever  nigh. 

3  His  counsels  and  upholding  care, 
My  safety  and  my  comfort  are  : 
And  he  shall  guide  me  all  my  days, 
Till  glory  crown  the  work  of  grace. 

4  Jesus  !  in  whom  but  thee  above 
Can  I  repose  my  trust,  my  love  ? 
And  shall  an  earthly  object  be 
Lov'd  in  comparison  with  thee! 

5  My  flesh  is  hast'ning  to  decay, 

Soon  shall  the  world  have  pass'd  away  j 


116  SACRED  POETRY. 

And  what  can  mortal  friends  avail, 
When  heart,  and  strength,  and  life  shall 
fail! 

6  But  oh  !  be  thou,  my  Saviour,  nigh, 
And  I  will  triumph  while  I  die  ; 
My  strength,  my  portion  is  divine, 
And  Jesus  is  for  ever  mine. 

CONDEE. 


84.  REPENTANCE. 


1  Return,  my  roving  heart,  return, 

And  life's  vain  shadows  chase  no  more  , 
Seek  out  some  solitude  to  mourn, 
And  thy  forsaken  God  implore. 

2  O  thou  great  God,  whose  piercing  eye 
Distinctly  marks  each  deep  retreat, 

In  these  sequester'd  hours  draw  nigh, 
And  let  me  here  thy  presence  meet. 

3  Through  all  the  windings  of  my  heart, 
My  search  let  heav'nly  wisdom  guide ; 
And  still  its  beams  unerring  dart, 
Till  all  be  known  and  purified. 

4  Then  let  the  visits  of  thy  love, 
My  inmost  soul  be  call'd  to  share, 


SACRED  POETRY.  117 

Till  ev'ry  grace  combine  to  prove, 
That  God  has  fix'd  his  dwelling  there. 

DODDRIDGE. 


85.  THE  REVERIE. 

1  O !  that  in  unfetter'd  union 

Spirit  could  with  spirit  blend ; 
O  !  that  in  unseen  communion, 
•    Thought  could  hold  the  distant  friend ! 
Who  the  secret  can  unravel, 

Of  the  body's  mystic  guest  ? 
Who  knows  how  the  soul  may  travel, 

W7hile  unconsciously  we  rest? 

2  While  in  pleasing  thraldom  lying, 

Seal'd  in  slumbers  deep,  it  seems, 
Far  abroad  it  may  be  flying — 

What  is  sleep  ?  and  what  are  dreams? 
Earth,  how  narrow  thy  dominions, 

And  how  slow  the  body's  pace  ! 
O  !  to  range  on  eagle  pinions 

Through  illimitable  space ! 

3  WThat  is  thought  ?  in  wild  succession 

Whence  proceeds  the  motley  train  ? 
What  first  stamps  the  vague  impression 
On  the  ever-active  brain  ? 


118  SACRED  POETRY. 

What  is  thought — and  whither  tending 
Does  the  subtile  phantom  flee  ? 

Does  it,  like  a  moonbeam  ending, 
Shine,  then  melt  to  vacancy  ? 

i>  Has  a  strange  mysterious  feeling, 
Something  shapeless,  undefin'd, 
O'er  thy  lonely  musings  stealing, 

Ne'er  impress'd  thy  pensive  mind; 
As  if  he,  whose  strong  resemblance 

Fancy  in  that  moment  drew, 
By  coincident  remembrance, 

Knew  your  thoughts — and  thought  of 
you^ 

5  When,  at  mercy's  footstool  bending, 

Thou  hast  felt  a  secret  glow ; 
Faith  and  hope  to  heav'n  ascending, 

Love  still  lingering  below ; 
Say,  has  ne'er  the  thought  impress'd  thee, 

That  thy  friend  might  feel  thy  pray'r  ? 
Or  the  wish  at  least  possess'd  thee, 

He  could  then  thy  feeling  share  ? 

6  Who  can  tell  ?  that  fervent  blessing, 

Angels,  did  you  here  it  rise  ? 
Do  you  thus  your  love  expressing, 

Watch  o'er  human  sympathies  ? 
Do  ye  some  mysterious  token 

To  the  kindred  bosom  bear  ? 


SACKED  POETRY.  119 

And  to  what  the  heart  has  spoken, 
Wake  a  chord  responsive  there  ? 

7  Laws,  perhaps  unknown,  but  certain, 

Kindred  spirits  may  control ; 
But  what  hand  can  lift  the  curtain, 

And  reveal  the  awful  soul  ? 
Dimly  through  life's  vapours  seeing, 

Who  but  longs  for  light  to  break  ? 
O  this  feverish  dream  of  being  ! 

When,  my  friend,  shall  we  awake  ? 

8  Yes,  the  hour,  the  hour  is  hasting, 

Spirit  shall  with  spirit  blend  ; 
Fast  mortality  is  wasting, 

Then  the  secret  all  shall  end. 
Let,  then,  thought  hold  sweet  communion, 

Let  us  breathe  the  mutual  pray'r, 
Till  in  heaven's  eternal  union, 

O  my  friend  !  to  meet  thee  there. 


PART  II. 
Oh  !  the  hour  when  this  material 

Shall  have  vanish'd  like  a  cloud  : 
When,  amid  the  wide  ethereal, 

All  th'  invisible  shall  crowd  ; 
And  the  naked  soul,  surrounded 

With  innum'rous  hosts  of  light, 


120  SACKED  POET11Y. 

Triumph  in  the  view  unbounded, 
And  adore  the  Infinite. 

2  In  that  sudden  strange  transition, 

By  what  new  and  finer  sense 
Shall  she  grasp  the  mighty  vision, 

And  receive  its  influence  ? 
Angels,  guard  the  new  immortal 

Through  the  wonder-teeming  space, 
To  the  everlasting  portal, 

To  the  spirit's  resting-place. 

3  Will  she  there  no  fond  emotion, 

Nought  of  early  love  retain  ? 
Or,  absorb'd  in  pure  devotion, 

Will  no  mortal  trace  remain  ? 
Can  the  grave  those  ties  dissever, 

With  the  very  heart-strings  twin'd? 
Must  she  part,  and  part  for  ever, 

With  the  friend  she  leaves  behind  ? 

4  No :  the  past  she  still  remembers : 

Faith  and  hope  surviving  too, 
Ever  watch  those  sleeping  embers, 

Which  must  rise  and  live  anew  : 
For  the  widow'd,  lonely  spirit, 

Mourns  till  she  be  cloth  d  afresh ; 
Longs  perfection  to  inherit, 

And  to  triumph  in  the  flesh. 

6  Angels,  let  the  ransom'd  stranger 
In  your  tender  care  be  blest, 


SACRED  POETRY.  121 

Hoping,  trusting,  free  from  danger, 
Till  the  trumpet  end  her  rest : 

Till  the  trump  which  shakes  creation, 
Through  the  circling  heav'n  shall  roll, 

Till  the  day  of  consummation, 
Till  the  bridal  of  the  soul. 

6  Can  I  trust  a  fellow-being  ? 

Can  I  trust  an  angel's  care  ? 
O,  thou  merciful  All-seeing, 

Beam  around  my  spirit  there  ! 
Jesus,  blessed  Mediator, 

Thou  the  airy  path  hast  trod  ! 
Thou,  the  Judge,  the  Consummator, 

Shepherd  of  the  fold  of  God  ! 

7  Blessed  fold  !  no  foe  can  enter, 

And  no  friend  departeth  thence  ; 
Jesus  is  their  Sun,  their  Centre, 

And  their  shield  Omnipotence  : 
Blessed  !  for  the  Lamb  shall  feed  them, 

All  their  tears  shall  wipe  away ; 
To  the  living  fountains  lead  them, 

Till  fruition's  perfect  day. 

8  Lo  !  it  comes,  that  day  of  wonder 

Louder  chorals  shake  the  skies ; 
Hades'  gates  are  burst  asunder, 

See  the  new-cloth'd  myriads  rise  ! 
Thought,  repress  thy  weak  endeavour* 

Here  must  reason  prostrate  fall ; 


122  SACRED  POETRY. 

O  the  ineffable  For  Ever, 
And  the  Eternal  All  in  All! 

CONDKE. 


86.  SABBATH  MORNING. 

1  Dear  is  the  hallow'd  morn  to  me, 
When  village  bells  awake  the  day ; 
And,  by  their  sacred  minstrelsy, 
Call  me  from  earthly  cares  away. 

2  And  dear  to  me  the  winged  hour, 
Spent  in  thy  hallow'd  courts,  O  Lord ! 
To  feel  devotion's  soothing  power, 
And  catch  the  manna  of  thy  word. 

3  And  dear  to  me  the  loud  Amen, 
Which  echoes  through  the  blest  abode, 
Which  swells  and  sinks,  and  swells  again, 
Dies  on  the  walls,  but  lives  to  God. 

4-  And  dear  the  rustic  harmony, 
Sung  with  the  pomp  of  village  art ; 
That  holy,  heav'nly  melody, 
The  music  of  a  thankful  heart. 

5  In  secret  I  have  often  pray'd, 

And  still  the  anxious  fear  would  fall ; 

But,  on  thy  sacred  altar  laid, 

The  fire  descends,  and  dries  them  all. 


SACRED    POETRY.  123 

6  Oft  when  the  world,  with  iron  hands, 
Has  bound  me  in  its  six  days'  chain, 
This  bursts  them,  like  the  strong  man's 
And  lets  my  spirit  loose  again.       [bands, 

7  Then  dear  to  me  the  Sabbath  morn, 
The  village  bells,  the  shepherd's  voice  ; 
These  oft  have  found  my  heart  forlorn, 
And  always  bid  that  heart  rejoice. 

8  Go,  man  of  pleasure,  strike  thy  lyre, 
Of  broken  Sabbaths  sing  the  charms  ; 
Ours  be  the  prophet's  car  of  fire, 
That  bears  us  to  a  Father's  arms. 

CUNNINGHAM. 


87«  SABBATH  EVENING. 

1  Is  there  a  time  when  moments  flow. 
More  lovelily  than  all  beside  ? 

It  is  of  all  the  times  below, 
A  Sabbath  eve  in  summer  tide. 

2  O  then  the  setting  sun  smiles  fair, 
And  all  below,  and  all  above, 
The  diil 'rent  forms  of  nature  wear 
One  universal  garb  of  love. 

3  And  then  the  peace  that  Jesus  beams, 
The  life  of  grace,  the  death  of  sin. 


124  SACRED  POETRY. 

With  nature's  placid  woods  and  streams, 
Is  peace  without,  and  peace  within. 

4  Delightful  scene !  a  world  at  rest, 
A  God  all  love,  no  grief  nor  fear ; 
A  heavenly  hope,  a  peaceful  breast, 
A  smile  unsullied  by  a  tear. 

5  If  heav'n  be  ever  felt  below, 

A  scene  so  heav'nly  sure  as  this, 
May  cause  a  heart  on  earth  to  know 
Some  foretaste  of  celestial  bliss. 

6  Delightful  hour !  how  soon  will  night 
Spread  her  dark  mantle  o'er  thy  reign  ; 
And  morrow's  quick  returning  light 
Must  call  us  to  the  world  again. 

7  Yet  will  there  dawn  at  last  a  day, 
A  Sun  that  never  sets  shall  rise ; 
Night  will  not  veil  his  ceaseless  ray, 
The  heavenly  Sabbath  never  dies  ! 

EDMESTON. 


88.  "  LOVE  TO  GOD." 

1   Oh  !  sweet   is    morn's   first  breeze   that 
strays  on  the  mountain, 
And  sighs  o'er  its  bosom,  and  murmurs 
away ; 


SACRED  POETRY.  125 

And  bright  is  the  beam  which  upsprings 

from  day's  fountain, 
And  breaks  o'er  the  East  in  its  goldei 

array ! 

2  And  lovely  the  riv'let  incessantly  flowing, 
Which  winds  gently  murm'ring  its  course 

through  the  plain ; 
And  welcome  the  beacon  which,  faithfully 

glowing, 
Cheers  the  heart  of  the  mariner  toss'd  on 

the  main. 

3  But    sweeter,  my  God,   is   thy  voice  of 

compassion, 

Which  soft  as  the  summer's  dew  falls  on 
the  mind  ; 

WThich  whispers  the  tidings  of  life  and  sal- 
vation.. 

And  casts  the  dark  shadows  of  sorrow  be- 
hind. 

4  O  yes  !  I  have  known  it,  when,  kindly  and 

cheering, 

It  hush'd  the  hoarse  thunders  of  justice  to 
rest; 

It  was  heard,  and  the  angel  of  mercy  ap- 
pearing, 

Pour'd  the  balm  of  relief  o'er  the  penitent's 
breast. 


126 


SACRED  POETRY. 


5  And  still  may  I  hear  it,  while  crossing 

life's  ocean,  [gale ; 

Or  borne  on  the  billow,  or  breath'd  in  the 
Enkindling  the  flame  of  expiring  devotion, 
And  utt'ring  the  promise  that  never  shall 

fail. 

6  'Tis  the  still  voice  of  Him  who  expir'd  on 

the  mountain, 
And  breath'd  out  for  sinners  his  last  dying 

groan ;  [tain, 

His  voice  who  on  Calvary  open'd  the  foun- 
Of  water  to  cleanse,  and  of  blood  to  atone. 

7  That  voice,  O  believer!  shall  cheer  and 

protect  thee, 
When   the  cold  chill  of  death  thy  frail 

bosom  invades  ; 
At  its  sound  shall  the  Day-Star  arise  to 

direct  thee, 
And  gild  with  refulgence    the  valley  of 

shades. 


89-      SUFFERINGS  OF  CHRIST. 


1  Thou  soft-flowing  Kedron,  by  thy  silver 
stream, 
Our  Saviour  at  midnight,  when  Cynthia's 
pale  beam 


SACRED  POETRY.  127 

Shone  bright  on  the  waters,  would  often- 
times stray, 

And  lose  in  thy  murmurs  the  toils  of  the 
day ! 

Come  saints,  and  adore  him,  come  bow 

at  his  feet; 
O  give  him  the  glory,  the  praise  that  is 

meet ; 
Let  joyful  hosannas  unceasing  arise, 
And  join  the  full  chorus  that  gladdens 

the  skies. 

2  How  damp  were  the  vapours  that  fell  on 

his  head  ? 
How  hard  was  his  pillow !  how  humble 

his  bed ! 
The   angels  astonished  grew  sad  at  the 

sight, 
And  follow'd  their  Master  with  solemn 

delight. 

Come  saints  and  adore  him,  come  bow 

at  his  feet ; 
O  give  him  the  glory,  the  praise  that  is 

meet; 
Let  joyful  hosannas  unceasing  arise, 
And  join  the  full  chorus  that  gladdens 

the  skies. 


128  SACRED  POETRY. 

3  O  Garden  of  Olivet — dear  honour'd  spot 
The  fame  of  thy  wonders  shall  ne'er  be 

forgot ! 
The  theme  most  transporting  to  seraphs 

above  ! 
The  triumph  of  sorrow,  the  triumph  of 

love ! 

Come  saints,  and  adore  him,  come  bow 

at  his  feet; 
O  give  him  the  glory,  the  praise  that  is 

meet ; 
Let  joyful  hosannas  unceasing  arise, 
And  join  the  full  chorus  that  gladdens 

the  skies, 

ARIE  DE  FLEURY. 


90.    VALUE  OF  THE  SCRIPTURES. 

O  child  of  sorrow,  be  it  thine  to  know 
That  Scripture  only  is  the  cure  of  woe ! 
That  field  of  promise,  how  it  flings  abroad 
Its  perfume  o'er  the  Christian's  thorny  road  ! 
The  soul,  reposing  on  assur'd  belief, 
Feels  herself  happy  amidst  all  her  grief, 
Forgets  her  labour  as  she  toils  along, 
Weeps  tears  of  joy,  and  bursts  into  a  song! 

COWPER. 


SACRED  POETRY.  129 


91.  THE  ORPHAN. 

1  Upon  my  father's  new  clos'd  grave 

Deep  lay  the  winter's  snow  : 
Green,  now,  the  grass  waves  o'er  his  head, 
And  tall  the  tomb-weeds  grow. 

2  Along  life's  road  no  parent's  hand 

My  homeless  footsteps  led: 
No  mother's  arm  in  sickness  sooth'd, 
And  rais'd  my  throbbing  head. 

3  But  other  hearts,  Lord  !  thou  hast  warm'd 

With  tenderness  benign  ; 
And  in  the  stranger's  eye  I  mark 
The  tear  of  pity  shine. 

4  The  stranger's  hand  by  thee  is  mov'd 

To  be  the  orphan's  stay  ; 
And,  better  far,  the  stranger's  voice 
Hath  taught  us  how  to  pray. 

5  Thou  putt'st  a  new  song  in  our  mouth, 

A  song  of  praise  and  joy ; 
O  may  we  not  our  lips  alone, 
But  hearts,  in  praise  employ! 

6  To  Him  who  little  children  took, 

And  in  his  bosom  held, 

I 


130  SACRED  POETRY. 

And,  blessing  them  with  looks  of  love, 
Their  rising  fears  dispell'd : 

7  To  Him,  while  flow'rs  bloom  on  the  bank, 

Or  lambs  sport  on  the  lea ; 
While  larks  with  morning  hymns  ascend, 
Or  birds  chaunt  on  the  tree : 

8  To  Him  let  ev'ry  creature  join 

In  prayer,  and  thanks,  and  praise  : 
Infants,  their  little  anthems  lisp; 
Age,  hallelujahs  raise! 

GRAHAMK, 


92.  THE  DYING  INFANT. 


1  "  Cease  here  longer  to  detain  me, 
Fondest  mother,  drown'd  in  woe  ; 
Now  thy  kind  caresses  pain  me, 
Morn  advances — let  me  go. 

2  "  See  yon  orient  streak  appearing ! 
Harbinger  of  endless  day ; 

Hark !  a  voice,  the  darkness  cheering, 
Calls  my  new-born  soul  away ! 

F   S  "  Lately  launch'd,  a  trembling  stranger, 
;        On  the  world's  wild  boist'rous  flood  ; 

Pierc'd  with  sorrows,  toss'd  with  danger, 

Gladly  I  return  to  God. 


SACRED  POETRY.  131 

4f  "  Now  my  cries  shall  cease  to  grieve  thee, 
Now  my  trembling  heart  find  rest : 
Kinder  arms  than  thine  receive  me, 
Softer  pillow  than  thy  breast. 

5  "  Weep  not  o'er  these  eyes  that  languish, 
Upward  turning  toward  their  home  : 
Raptur'd  they'll  forget  all  anguish, 
While  they  wait  to  see  thee  come. 

6  "  There,  my  mother,  pleasures  centre — 
Weeping,  parting,  care  or  woe, 

Ne'er  our  Father's  house  shall  enter — 
Morn  advances — let  me  go. 

7  "  As  thro'  this  calm,  this  holy  dawning, 
Silent  glides  my  parting  breath, 

To  an  everlasting  morning, 
Gently  close  my  eyes  in  death. 

8  "  Blessings  endless,  richest  blessings, 
Pour  their  streams  upon  thy  heart ! 
(Though  no  language  yet  possessing,) 
Breathes  my  spirit  ere  we  part. 

9  "  Yet  to  leave  thee  sorrowing  rends  me, 
Though  again  his  voice  I  hear : 

Rise  !  may  every  grace  attend  thee : 
Rise  !  and  seek  to  meet  me  there." 

CECIL. 


132  SACKED  POETRY. 

93.    THE  HEAVENLY  JERUSALEM. 


High  in  yonder  realms  of  light, 
Far  above  these  lower  skies, 
Fair  and  exquisitely  bright, 
Heav'n's  unfading  mansions  rise  : 
Built  of  pure  and  massy  gold, 
Strong  and  durable  are  they  ; 
Deck'd  with  gems  of  worth  untold, 
Subjected  to  no  decay  ! 

Glad  within  these  blest  abodes, 
Dwell  the  raptur'd  saints  above, 
Where  no  anxious  care  corrodes, 
Happy  in  Emmanuel's  love  ! 
Once,  indeed,  like  us  below,    ' 
Pilgrims  in  this  vale  of  tears, 
Torturing  pain,  and  heavy  woe, 
Gloomy  doubts,  distressing  fears : 

These,  alas  !  full  well  they  knew, 
Sad  companions  of  their  way  ; 
Oft  on  them  the  tempest  blew, 
Through  the  long,  the  cheerless  day  ! 
Oft  their  vileness  they  deplor'd, 
Wills  perverse  and  hearts  untrue, 


SACRED  POETRY.  133 

Griev'd  they  could  not  love  their  Lord, 
Love  him  as  they  wish'd  to  do. 

Oft  the  big  unbidden  tear, 
Stealing  down  the  furrow'd  cheek, 
Told,  in  eloquence  sincere, 
Tales  of  woe  they  could  not  speak : 
But  these  days  of  weeping  o'er, 
Past  this  scene  of  toil  and  pain, 
They  shall  feel  distress  no  more, 
Never,  never,  weep  again  ! 

'Mid  the  chorus  of  the  skies, 
'Mid  the  angelic  lyres  above, 
Hark  !  their  songs  melodious  rise, 
Songs  of  praise  to  Jesus'  love  ! 
Happy  spirits !   ye  are  fled, 
Where  no  grief  can  entrance  find ; 
LulPd  to  rest  the  aching  head, 
Sooth'd  the  anguish  of  the  mind  ! 

All  is  tranquil  and  serene, 
Calm  and  undisturb'd  repose  ; 
There  no  cloud  can  intervene, 
There  no  angry  tempest  blows  ! 
Every  tear  is  wiped  away, 
Sighs  no  more  shall  heave  the  breast ; 
Night  is  lost  in  endless  day — 
Sorrow — in  eternal  rest ! 

BAFFLES. 


134  SACRED  POETRY. 

94.      ANTICIPATION  OF  FUTURE 
HAPPINESS. 


1  Ah  !  why  this  disconsolate  frame  ? 
Though  earthly  enjoyments  decay, 
My  Jesus  is  ever  the  same, 

A  sun  in  the  gloomiest  day. 
Though  molten  awhile  in  the  fire, 
'Tis  only  the  gold  to  refine  ; 
And  be  it  my  simple  desire, 
Though  suffering,  not  to  repine. 

2  What  can  be  the  pleasure  to  me, 
Which  earth  in  its  fulness  can  boast  ? 
Delusive  its  vanities  flee, 

A  flash  of  enjoyment  at  most ! 
And  if  the  Redeemer  could  part, 
For  me,  with  his  throne  in  the  skies, 
Ah  !  why  is  so  dear  to  my  heart 
What  he  in  his  wisdom  denies  ? 

3  Though  riches  to  others  be  giv'n, 
Their  corn  and  their  vintage  abound  ; 
Yet  if  I  have  treasure  in  heav'n, 
WThere  should  my  affections  be  found  ? 
Why  stoop  for  the  glittering  sands, 
Which  they  are  so  eager  to  share, 


SACRED  POETRY.  1«36 

Forgetting  those  wealthier  lands 
That  form  my  inheritance  there  ? 

4  Dear  Jesus  !  my  feelings  refine, 
My  truant  affections  recall : 
Then,  be  there  no  fruit  in  the  vine, 
Deserted  and  empty  the  stall, 
The  long  labour'd  olive  may  die, 
The  field  may  no  harvest  afford  ; 
But,  under  the  gloomiest  sky, 

My  soul  shall  rejoice  in  the  Lord ! 

5  Then  let  the  rude  tempest  assail, 
The  blast  of  adversity  blow : 
The  haven,  though  distant,  I  hail, 
Beyond  this  rough  ocean  of  woe ; 
When  safe  on  the  beautiful  strand, 
I'll  smile  at  the  billows  that  foam, 
Kind  angels  to  hail  me  to  land, 
And  Jesus  to  welcome  me  home. 

MISS  TAYLOR. 


95.  RESIGNATION. 


1  Soon  will  the  toilsome  strife  be  o'er 
Of  sorrow  and  of  care, 
And  life's  dull  vanities  no  more 
This  anxious  breast  ensnare. 


136  SACRED  POETRY. 

2  Courage,  my  soul !  on  God  rely, 

Deliv'rance  soon  will  come  ; 
A  thousand  ways  Jehovah  has 
To  bring  believers  home. 

3  Ere  first  I  drew  this  vital  breath, 

From  nature's  prison  free, 
Crosses  in  number,  measure,  weight, 
Appointed  were  for  me. 

4  But  Thou,  my  Shepherd,  Friend  and  Guide,. 

Hast  led  me  kindly  on, 
Taught  me  to  rest  my  weary 'head 
On  Christ  "  the  Corner-stone." 

5  So  comforted  and  so  sustained, 

With  dark  events  I  strove, 
And  found  them,  as  I  walk'd  by  faith, 
All  messengers  of  love. 

6  With  silent  and  submissive  awe 

Adore  a  chast'ning  God ; 
Revere  his  judgments,  trust  his  word, 
And  humbly  kiss  the  rod. 

MRS.  COWPER. 


96.  GOD  IS  LOVE. 

1   Oh  !  child  of  grief,  why  weepest  thou 
Why  droops  thy  sad  and  mournful  brow  ? 


SACRED  POETRY.  137 

Why  is  thy  look  so  like  despair  ? 
What  deep  sad  sorrow  lingers  there  ? 

2  Thou  moum'st  perhaps  for  some  one  gone, 
A  friend,  a  wife,  a  little  one  ; 

Yet  mourn  not,  for  thou  hast  above 
A  friend  in  God,  and  "  God  is  love." 

3  Was  it  remorse  that  laid  thee  low? 
Is  it  for  sin  thou  mournest  so  ? 
Surely  thou  bear'st  a  heavy  grief; 
Yet,  mourner,  there  is  still  relief. 

4  There's  One  on  high  can  pardon  give, 
Who  gave  his  life  that  thou  may'st  live ; 
Seek,  then,  for  comfort  from  above, 
Thy  friend  is  God,  and  "  God  is  love." 

5  Has  cold  unkindness  wounded  thee  ? 
Does  thy  lov'd  friend  now  from  thee  flee  * 
O  turn  thy  thoughts  from  earth  to  heav'n» 
Where  no  such  cruel  wounds  are  giv'n. 

6  In  all  the  varying  scenes  of  woe, 
The  lot  of  fallen  man  below  ; 
Still  lift  thy  tearful  eye  above, 

And  hope  in  God,  for  "  God  is  love." 

7  Sweet  is  the  thought — time  flies  apace— 
This  earth  is  not  our  resting-place  , 
And  sweet  the  promise  of  the  Lord 

To  all  who  love  his  name  and  word. 


138  SACRED  POETRY. 

8  Then,  weeping  pilgrim,  dry  thy  tears ; 
Comfort  on  ev'ry  side  appears  ; 
An  eye  beholds  thee  from  above ; 
The  eye  of  God,  and  "  God  is  love." 

ANON. 


97- 


CONTENTMENT. 


1  Fierce  passions  discompose  the  mind, 
As  tempests  vex  the  sea ; 

But  calm  content  and  peace  we  find, 
When,  Lord,  we  turn  to  thee. 

2  In  vain  by  reason  and  by  rule, 
We  try  to  bend  the  will ; 

For  none  but  in  the  Saviour's  school 
Can  learn  the  heavenly  skill. 

3  Since  at  his  feet  my  soul  has  sat, 
His  gracious  words  to  hear, 
Contented  with  my  present  state, 
I  cast  on  him  my  care. 

4  "  Art  thou  a  sinner,  soul  ?"  he  said  ; 
"  Then  how  canst  thou  complain  ? 
How  light  thy  troubles  here,  if  weigh'd 
With  everlasting  pain ! 

5  If  thou  of  murm'ring  would'st  be  cur'd, 
Compare  thy  griefs  with  mine ; 


SACRED  POETRY.  139 

Think  what  my  love  for  thee  endur'd, 
And  thou  wilt  not  repine. 

6  'Tis  I  appoint  thy  daily  lot, 
And  I  do  all  things  well ; 

Thou  soon  shalt  leave  this  wretched  spot, 
And  rise  with  me  to  dwell. 

7  In  life  my  grace  shall  strength  supply, 
Proportion'd  to  thy  day ; 

At  death  thou  still  shalt  find  me  nigh, 
To  wipe  thy  tears  away." 

8  Thus  I,  who  once  my  wretched  days 
In  vain  repining  spent, 

Taught  in  my  Saviour's  school  of  grace, 
Have  learn'd  to  be  content. 


98.    LO  !   WE  HAVE  LEFT  ALL  AND 
FOLLOWED  THEE  ! 


1  Jesus,  I  my  cross  have  taken, 
All  to  leave,  and  follow  thee  ; 

Naked,  poor,  despis'd,  forsaken, 
Thou,  from  hence,  my  all  shalt  be: 

Perish  ev'ry  fond  ambition, 

All  I've  sought,  or  hop'd,  or  known  ; 


140  SACRED  POETRY. 

Yet  how  rich  is  my  condition, 
God  and  heaven  are  still  my  own. 

2  Let  the  world  despise  and  leave  me : 

They  have  left  my  Saviour  too ; 
Human  hearts  and  looks  deceive  me, 

Thou  art  not,  like  them,  untrue  ; 
And  whilst  thou  shalt  smile  upon  me, 

God  of  wisdom,  love,  and  might, 
Foes  may  hate,  and  friends  may  scorn  me, 

Show  thy  face,  and  all  is  bright. 

S  Go,  then,  earthly  fame  and   reasure, 

Come  disaster,  scorn,  and  pain, 
In  thy  service  pain  is  pleasure, 

With  thy  favour  loss  is  gain. 
I  have  called  thee  Abba,  Father, 

I  have  set  my  heart  on  thee  ; 
Storms  may  howl,  and  clouds  may  gather, 

All  must  work  for  good  to  me. 

4  Man  may  trouble  and  distress  me, 

'Twill  but  drive  me  to  thy  breast ; 
Life  with  trials  hard  may  press  me, 

Heav'n  will  bring  me  sweeter  rest. 
Oh  !  'tis  not  in  grief  to  harm  me, 

While  thy  love  is  left  to  me ; 
Oh  !  'twere  not  in  joy  to  charm  me, 

Were  that  joy  unmix'd  with  thee. 


SACRED  POETRY.  141 

5  Soul,  then  know  thy  full  salvation, 

Rise  o'er  sin,  and  fear,  and  care ; 
Joy  to  find  in  ev'ry  station  ^ 

Something  still  to  do  or  bear. 
Think  what  spirit  dwells  within  thee, 

Think  what  Father's  smiles  are  thine ; 
Think  that  Jesus  died  to  save  thee : 

Child  of  heaven,  canst  thou  repine  ? 

6  Haste  thee  on  from  grace  to  glory, 

Arm'd  by  faith  and  wmg'd  by  prayer, 
Heaven's  eternal  days  before  thee, 

God's  own  hand  shall  guide  thee  there. 
Soon  shall  close  thy  earthly  mission, 

Soon  shall  pass  thy  pilgrim  days ; 
Hope  shall  change  to  glad  fruition, 

Faith  to  sight,  and  pray'r  to  praise. 


99-    IMMORTALITY  OF   THE   SOUL. 


1  The  grave  is  not  a  place  of  rest, 

As  unbelievers  teach, 
Where  grief  ran  never  win  a  tear, 
Nor  sorrow  ever  reach. 

2  The  eye  that  shed  the  tear  is  closed, 

The  heaving  breast  is  cold ; 


142  SACRED  POETRY. 

But  that  which  suffers  and  enjoys, 
No  narrow  grave  can  hold. 

3  The  mould'ring  earth  and  hungry  worm 
The  dust  they  lent  may  claim  ; 
But  the  enduring  spirit  lives 
Eternally  the  same, 

MISS  CAROLINE  FRY. 


100.       job's  complaint. 


1  Of  all  my  race  there  breathes  not  one, 

To  comfort  or  deplore  me  ; 
Pain  wakes  a  pulse  in  every  bone, 

And  death  is  closing  o'er  me. 
Still  doth  his  lifted  stroke  delay, 

Protracted  tortures  dooming, 
I  feel,  ere  life  has  pass'd  away, 

His  very  worm  consuming. 

2  Night  spreads  her  mantle  o'er  the  sky, 

And  all  around  are  sleeping, 
While  I  in  tears  of  agony, 

My  restless  couch  am  steeping. 
I  sigh  for  morn — the  rising  day 

Awakes  the  earth  to  gladness  j 
I  turn  with  sick'ning  soul  away, — 

It  smiles  upon  my  sadness. 


SACRED  POETRY.  143 

3  Curs'd  be  that  day, — in  tempest  wild, — 

When  first,  with  looks  delighted, 
My  mother  smil'd  upon  her  child, 

And  felt  her  pangs  requited  ! 
Oh  !  that,  by  human  eye  unseen, 

I  might  have  fled  from  sorrow ; 
And  been  as  though  I  had  not  been,— 

As  I  would  be  to-morrow  ! 

4  The  light  wave  sparkling  in  the  beam, 

That  trembles  o'er  the  river, 
A  moment  shed  its  quiv'ring  gleam, 

Then  shuns  the  sight  for  ever : 
So  soft  a  ray  can  pleasure  shed, 

While  secret  snares  surround  it ; 
So  swift  the  faithless  hope  is  fled, 

Which  wins  the  heart  to  wound  it ! 

5  A  crown  of  glory  grac'd  my  brow, 

Whole  nations  bent  before  me  ; 
Princes  and  hoary  sires  would  bow, 

To  flatter  and  adore  me. 
To  me  the  widow  turn'd  for  aid, 

And  ne'er  in  vain  address'd  me  : 
For  me  the  grateful  orphan  pray'd, 

The  soul  of  mis'ry  bless'd  me. 

6  I  rais'd  the  drooping  wretch  that  pin'd, 

In  lonely  anguish  lying ; 


144  SACRED  POETRY. 

Was  balm  unto  the  wounded  mind, 

And  solace  to  the  dying  ; 
Till  one  stern  stroke  of  all  my  state, 

Of  all  my  bliss,  bereft  me ; 
And  I  was  worse  than  desolate, 

For  God  himself  had  left  me. 

7  Ye,  too,  as  life  itself  belov'd, 

When  all  conspir'd  to  bless  me, 
I  deem'd  ye  friends, — but  ye  have  prov'd 

The  foes  who  most  oppress  me. 
I  could  have  borne  the  slave's  rude  scorn, 

The  wreck  of  all  I  cherish'd : 
Had  one, — but  one, — remain'd  to  mourn 

O'er  me,  when  I  too  perish'd. 

8  My  children  sleep  in  death's  cold  shade, 

And  nought  can  now  divide  them  ; 
Oh  !  would  the  same  wild  storm  had  laid 

Their  wretched  sire  beside  them  ; 
1  had  not  then  been  doom'd  to  see 

The  loss  of  all  who  love  me  ; 
Unbroken  would  my  slumbers  be, 

Though  none  had  wept  above  me. 

9  All  hope  on  earth  for  ever  fled 

A  higher  hope  remaineth ; 
E'en  while  his  wrath  is  o'er  me  shed, 
I  know  my  Saviour  reigneth* 


SACRED  POETRY.  145 

The  worm  may  waste  this  with'ring  clay, 
When  flesh  and  spirit  sever ; 

My  soul  shall  see  eternal  day, 
And  dwell  with  God  for  ever. 

DALE. 


101.    BENEFIT  OF  AFFLICTION. 

1  Often  the  clouds  of  deepest  woe 

So  sweet  a  message  bear, 
Dark  tho'  they  seem,  'twere  hard  to  find 
A  frown  of  anger  there. 

2  Yes,  often  has  adversity 

A  richer  boon  bestow'd, 
Has  oft  bequeathed  a  purer  joy, 
Than  all  that  men  call  good. 

3  Our  spirits,  too,  are  closely  bound 

To  earth's  delusive  toys  ; 
Poor  baubles  we  are  loth  to  leave 
For  everlasting  joys. 

4  It  needs  our  hearts  be  wean'd  from  earth, 

It  needs  that  we  be  driv'n, 

By  loss  of  every  earthly  stay, 

To  seek  our  joys  in  heav'n. 

5  And  what  is  sorrow,  what  is  pain, 

To  that  internal  care, 
K 


146  SACKED  POETRY. 

That  breaks  the  conscious  heart  for  sin, 
When  sin  is  hated  there  ? 

6  Kind,  loving  is  the  hand  that  strike' 

However  keen  the  smart, 

If  sorrow's  discipline  can  chase 

One  evil  from  the  heart. 

7  He  was  a  Man  of  Sorrows — He 

Who  lov'd  and  sav'd  us  thus  ; 
And  shall  the  world,  that  frown'd  on  hinj, 
Wear  only  smiles  for  us  ? 

8  No  ;  we  must  follow  in  the  path 

Our  Lord  and  Saviour  run  ; 

We  must  not  find  a  resting-place, 

Where  he  we  love  had  none. 

MISS  CAROLINE  FRY. 


102.  WARNING. 


1  Breathe   thoughts   of  pity  o'er  a  bro- 
ther's fall, 
But  dwell  not  with  stern  anger  on  his 
fault : 
The  grace  of  God  alone  hoi  ds  thee,  holds  aUi 
Were    that    withdrawn,     thou,     too, 
would'st  swerve  and  halt. 


SACRED  FOETKY.  147 

2  Send  back  the  wand'rer  to  the  Saviour's 

fold,— 
That  wer«  an  action  worthy  of  a  saint ; 
But  not  in  malice  let  the  crime  be  told, 
Nor  publish  to  the  world  the  evil  taint. 

3  The   Saviour  suffers  when    his    children 

slide ; 
Then  is  his  holy  name  by  men  blas- 
phem'd  ! 
And  he  afresh  is  mock'd  and  crucified, 
Even  by  those  his  bitter  death  redeem'd. 

4  Rebuke  the  sin,  and  yet  in  love  rebuke  ; 

Feel  as  one  member  in  another's  pain  ; 
Win  back  the  soul  that  his  fair  path  for- 
sook, 
And  mighty  and  eternal  is  thy  gain  ! 

EDMESTONU 


103. 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  BISHOP  HEBE  IU 


1   Grief  for  the  dead,  what  heart  can  e'er 

reprove, 
The  dead  that  die  in  righteousness  and 

peace  ! 
For  oh  !  fond  hearts  will  bleed  for  those 

they  love ; 
Yet,  let  not  sorrow  rob  thy  soul  of  ease : — 


148  SACRED  POETRY. 

2  For   he   whom    death    so    suddenly  cut 

down, 
Was  ripe  for  heaven,  in   grace's  fullest 

bloom  ; 
Ah  !  think  that  now  he  wears  the  golden 

crown, 
And  soon  shall  rise  triumphant  o'er  the 

tomb. 

3  His  course  was  glorious  as  the  summer's 

sun, 
When  travelling  in  the  greatness  of  his 

might ; — 
A  burning  and  a  shining  light  he  shone, 
Then  set,  to  rise  in  everlasting  light. 

4  And  now  he  beams  amid  the  stars  above, 
A  radiant  orb — no  more  to  fade  away ; 
But,  circling,  roll  around  the  throne  of 

love, 
His  burning  course,  thro'  heaven's  eter- 
nal day. 

WOOD. 


104.  THE  BEAUTIES  OF  CREATION. 


1   I  PRAis'd  the  earth,  in  beauty  seen, 
With  garlands  gay  of  various  green  ; 


SACRED  POETRY.  149 

I  prais'd  the  sea,  whose  ample  field 
Shone  glorious  as  a  silver  shield  : 
And  earth  and  ocean  seem'd  to  say, 
"  Our  beauties  are  but  for  a  day !" 

2  I  prais'd  the  sun,  whose  chariot  roll'd 
On  wheels  of  amber  and  of  gold  ; 

I  prais'd  the  moon,  whose  softer  eye 
Gleam'd    sweetly    through   the    summer 

sky ! 
And  moon  and  sun  in  answer  said, 
"  Our  days  of  light  are  numbered  :" 

3  O  God !  O  good  beyond  compare  ! 
If  thus  thy  meaner  works  are  fair  ! 
If  thus  thy  bounties  gild  the  span 
Of  ruin'd  earth  and  sinful  man, 
How  glorious  must  the  mansion  be, 
Where    thy  redeem'd   shall   dwell  wiu 

thee! 

BISHOP  HEBER. 


105.  PROVIDENCE. 


1  God  moves  in  a  mysterious  way, 
His  wonders  to  perform  ; 
He  plants  his  footsteps  in  the  sea, 
And  rides  upon  the  storm. 


150  SACRED  POETRY. 

2  Deep  in  unfathomable  mines 

Of  never-failing  skill, 
He  treasures  up  his  bright  designs, 
And  works  his  sov'reign  will. 

3  Ye  fearful  saints,  fresh  courage  take ; 

The  clouds  ye  so  much  dread, 
Are  big  with  mercy,  and  shall  break 
In  blessings  on  your  head. 

4  Judge  not  the  Lord  by  feeble  sense, 

But  trust  him  for  his  grace  : 
Behind  a  frowning  providence 
He  hides  a  smiling  face. 

b  His  purposes  will  ripen  fast, 
Unfolding  ev'ry  hour ; 
The  bud  may  have  a  bitter  taste, 
But  sweet  will  be  the  flower. 

6  Blind  unbelief  is  sure  to  err, 
And  scan  his  work  in  vain  ; 
God  is  his  own  interpreter, 
And  he  will  make  it  plain. 


COWPO. 


SACRED  POETRY.  151 

106.      evening's  HARPING. 


1  The  sun  parts  faintly  from  the  ware, 

The  moon  and  stars  are  beaming, 
The  corpse  is  cover'd  in  the  grave, 

And  infants  now  are  dreaming : 
But  time  conveys  with  rapid  pow'r, 
Alike  the  sweetest,  saddest  hour ! 

2  The  rain- has  shower'd,  the  bud  has  burst, 

The  wind  o'er  ocean  bellow'd ; 
Nature  the  birth  of  evening  nurst, 

And  thought  my  feelings  mellow'd  : 
O  sacred  Truth !  from  heaven  descend, 
Thou  art  my  guardian  and  my  friend  ! 

3  I'll  tune  my  harp — I'll  strike  its  wires — 

My  Saviour's  praise  to  waken ; 
His  love  refines  my  warmest  fires, 

And  keeps  my  heart  unshaken  : 
And  thus  melodious  chords  arise, 
And  tone  my  feelings  for  the  skies. 

4>  Though  living  in  the  strength  of  health, 
Earth's  noblest  joys  possessing; 
In  neither  poverty  nor  wealth, 
Esteeming  every  blessing ; 


152  SACRED  POETRY. 

I  know  not  but  the  voice  of  time 
May  call  me  soon  to  heav'n  sublime  ! 

5  But  if  uncall'd,  yet  sure  at  last, 

Even  though  with  locks  grown  hoary, 
That  sound  will  come,  and  when  'tis  past, 

I  shall  awake  in  glory  ! 
O  dear  Redeemer  !  give  me  grace, 
To  fit  me  for  that  happy  place ! 

6  Then,  when  the  vault  shall  claim  my  dust, 

And  God  recall  my  spirit ; 
Eternal  love  will  be  my  trust, 

Ensur'd  by  Jesus'  merit : 
And  the  triumphant  change  restore 
My  happiness  for  evermore  ! 

PRIOR. 


107.  HAPPINESS. 


1  Happiness,  thou  lovely  name  ! 

Where's  thy  seat,  O  tell  me  where  ? 
Learning,  pleasure,  wealth,  and  fame, 

All  cry  out,  "  It  is  not  here  :  " 
Not  the  wisdom  of  the  wise, 
Can  inform  me  where  it  lies  : 


SACKED  POETRY.  153 

Not  the  grandeur  of  the  great, 
Can  the  bliss  I  seek  create. 

2  Object  of  my  first  desire, 

Jesus,  crucified  for  me  ! 
All  to  happiness  aspire, 

Only  to  be  found  in  thee : 
Thee  to  praise,  and  thee  to  know, 
Constitute  our  bliss  below  ! 
Thee  to  see,  and  thee  to  love, 
Constitute  our  bliss  above. 

3  Lord,  it  is  not  life  to  live, 

If  thy  presence  thou  deny : 
Lord,  if  thou  thy  presence  give, 

'Tis  no  longer  death  to  die  : 
Source  and  giver  of  repose, 
Singly  from  thy  smile  it  flows  ; 
Peace  and  happiness  are  thine, 
Mine  they  are,  if  thou  art  mine. 

4  Whilst  I  see  thy  love  to  me, 

Ev'ry  object  teems  with  joy  ; 
Here,  O  may  I  walk  with  thee, 

Then  into  thy  presence  die  ! 
Let  me  but  thyself  possess, 
Total  sum  of  happiness  ! 
Real  bliss  I  then  shall  prove  ; 
Heav'n  below,  and  heav'n  above. 

TOFLADY. 


154     SACRED  POETRY. 


108.  BUFFERING  WITH  CHRIST. 


1  Long  plung'd  in  sorrow,  I  resign 
My  soul  to  that  dear  hand  of  thine, 

Without  reserve  or  fear ; 
That  hand  shall  wipe  my  streaming  eyes, 
Or  into  smiles  of  glad  surprise, 

Transform  the  falling  tear! 

2  My  sole  possession  is  thy  love : 
In  earth  beneath,  or  heav'n  above, 

I  have  no  other  store  : 
And  though  with  fervent  suit  I  pray, 
And  importune  thee  night  and  day, 

I  ask  thee  nothing  more. 

3  My  hours,  with  undiminish'd  force 
And  speed,  pursue  their  destin'd  course, 

Obedient  to  thy  will ; 
Nor  would  I  murmur  at  my  doom, 
Tho*  still  a  suff'rer  from  the  womb, 

And  doom'd  to  suffer  still. 

4*  By  thy  command,  where'er  I  stray, 

Sorrow  attends  me  all  my  way, 

A  never-failing  friend  ; 


SACRED  POETRY.  155 

And  if  my  suffrings  may  augment 
Thy  praise,  behold  me  well  content — 
Let  sorrow  still  attend ! 

It  costs  me  no  regret,  that  she 

Who  follow'd  Christ,  should  follow  me  ; 

And  though,  where'er  she  goes, 
Thorns  spring  spontaneous  at  her  feet, 
I  love  her,  and  extract  a  sweet 

From  all  my  bitter  woes. 

GUION 


109-  DEATH. 

1  How  blest  is  the  Christian,  bereft 

Of  all  that  could  burthen  his  mind ! 
How  easy  the  soul  that  has  left 

This  wearisome  body  behind ! 
Of  evil  incapable  thou, 

Whose  relics  with  envy  I  see  : 
No  longer  in  misery  now, 

No  longer  a  sinner  like  me. 

2  This  earth  is  affected  no  more 

With  sickness,  or  shaken  with  pain  ; 
The  war  in  the  members  is  o'er, 

And  never  shall  vex  him  again  ; 
No  anger  henceforward,  nor  shame, 

Shall  redden  this  innocent  clay ; 


156  SACRED  POETKY. 

Extinct  is  the  animal  flame, 
And  passion  is  vanish'd  away. 

3  This  languishing  head  is  at  rest, 

Its  thinking  and  aching  are  o'er ; 
This  quiet,  immoveable  breast, 
m    Is  heav'd  by  affliction  no  more  ; 
This  heart  is  no  longer  the  seat 

Of  trouble  and  torturing  pain  ; 
It  ceases  to  flutter  and  beat, 

It  never  shall  flutter  again. 

4  The  lids  he  so  seldom  could  close, 

By  sorrow  forbidden  to  sleep, 
Seal'd  up  in  unbroken  repose, 

Have  strangely  forgotten  to  weep ; 
The  fountains  can  yield  no  supplies, 

These  hollows  from  water  are  free  : 
The  tears  are  all  wip'd  from  these  eyes, 

And  evil  they  never  shall  see. 

5  To  mourn  and  to  suffer  is  mine, 

While  bound  in  a  prison  I  breathe, 
And  still  for  deliverance  pine, 

And  press  to  the  issues  of  death. 
What  now  with.-my  tears  I  bedew, 

Prepare  me,  great  God,  to  become  i 
My  spirit  created  anew, 

Ere  I  am  consign'd  to  the  tomb. 

C.  WESLEY 


SACRED  POETRY.  157 


110.  THE  BETTER  LAND. 


1  I  hear  thee  speak  of  the  better  land ; 
Thou  call'st  its  children  a  happy  band ; 
Mother  !  oh  where  is  that  radiant  shore, — 
Shall  we  not  seek  it  and  weep  no  more  ? 
Is  it  where  the  flower  of  the  orange  blows, 
And  the  fire-flies  dance  through  the  myrtle 

boughs  ? 
"  Not  there,  not  there,  my  child  ! " 

2  Is  it  where  the  feathery  palm-trees  rise, 
And  the  date  grows  ripe  under  sunny  skies, 
Or  'midst  the  green  islands  of  glittering 

seas, 
Where  fragrant  forests  perfume  the  breeze, 
And  strange  bright  birds  on  their  starry 

wings, 
Bear  the  rich  hues  of  all  glorious  things  ? 
"  Not  there,  not  there,  my  child  !  " 

3  Is  it  far  away,  in  some  region  old, 
Where  the  rivers  wander  o'er  sands  of 

gold— 
Where  the  burning  rays  of  the  ruby  shine, 
And  the   diamond   lights  up  the   secret 


158  SACRED  POETRY. 

And  the  pearl  gleams  forth  from  the  coral 

strand — 
Is   it  there,   sweet  mother,  that  better 

land  ? 
"  Not  there,  not  there,  my  child  ! " 

4  Eye  hath  not  seen  It,  my  gentle  boy  ! 
Ear  hath  not  heard  its  deep  songs  of  joy, 
Dreams  cannot  picture  a  world  so  fair, 
Sorrow  and  death  may  not  enter  there  ; 
Time  doth  not  breathe    on    its  faultless 

bloom, 

For  beyond  the  clouds,  and  beyond  the 
tomb, 
It  is  there,  it  is  there,  my  child ! 

MRS.  HEMANS. 


111.  VICTORY    OVER    DEATH    AND 
THE   WORLD. 


]   I'm  going  to  leave  all  my  sadness, 
I'm  going  to  change  earth  for  heaven  ; 
There,  there  all  is  peace,  all  is  gladness ; 
There  pureness  and  glory  are  given. 
Come  quickly  then,  Jesus  !  Amen. 


SACRED  POETRY.  159 

2  Friends,  weep  not  in  sorrow  of  spirit, 
But  joy  that  my  time  here  is  o'er ; 

I  go  the  good  part  to  inherit, 
Where  sorrow  and  sin  are  no  more. 

3  The  shadows  of  evening  are  fleeing, 
Morn  breaks  from  the  city  of  light — 
This  moment  day  starts  into  being, 
Eternity  bursts  on  my  sight. 

4  The  first-born  redeemed  from  all  trouble, 
The  Lamb  that  was  slain,  in  the  throng, 
Their  ardour  in  praising  redouble  ; 
Breaks  not  on  the  ear  their  new  song. 

5  I'm  going  to  tell  their  great  story, 

To  share  in  their  transports  of  praise  ; 
I'm  going  in  garments  of  glory, 
My  voice  to  unite  with  their  lays. 

6  Ye  fetters  corrupted,  then  leave  me  ; 
Thou  body  of  sin,  droop  and  die  ; 
Pains  of  earth,  cease  ye  ever  to  grieve  me  ; 
From  you  'tis  for  ever  I  fly. 

Come  quickly  then,  Jesus  !  Amen. 

CJESAR  MALA*. 


160  SACRED  POETRY. 


112.       THE  POWER  OF  GOD. 


1  The  Lord  our  God  is  full  of  might, 

The  winds  obey  his  will ; 
He  speaks,  and  in  his  heavenly  height 
The  rolling  sun  stands  still. 

2  Rebel,  ye  waves,  and  o'er  the  land 

With  threat'ning  aspect  roar  ; 

The  Lord  uplifts  his  awful  hand, 

And  chains  you  to  the  shore. 

3  Howl,  winds  of  night,  your  force  combine; 

Without  his  high  behest, 
Ye  shall  not  in  the  mountain  pine 
Disturb  the  sparrow's  nest. 

4  His  voice  sublime  is  heard  afar, 

In  distant  peals  it  dies  ; 
He  yokes  the  whirlwinds  to  his  car, 
And  sweeps  the  howling  skies. 

5  Ye  nations  bend,  in  rev'rence  bend, 

Ye  monarchs  wait  his  nod, 
And  bid  the  choral  song  ascend 
To  celebrate  the  God ! 


SACRED  POETRY.     161 


PART  II. 

1  The  Lord  our  God  is  Lord  of  all, 

His  station  who  can  find  ? 
I  hear  him  in  the  waterfall ! 
I  hear  him  in  the  wind  ! 

2  If  in  the  gloom  of  night  I  shroud, 

His  face  I  cannot  fly ; 
I  see  him  in  the  evening  cloud, 
And  in  the  morning  sky. 

3  He  lives,  he  reigns,  in  ev'ry  land, 

From  winter's  polar  snows, 
To  where  across  the  burning  sand 
The  blasting  meteor  glows. 

4  He  smiles,  we  live, — he  frowns,  we  die—- 

We  hang  upon  his  word : 
He  rears  his  red  right  arm  on  high. 
And  ruin  bares  his  sword. 

5  He  bids  his  blasts  the  fields  deform — 

Then,  when  his  thunders  cease, 
Sits  as  the  ruler  of  the  storm, 
And  smiles  the  winds  to  peace ! 

H.  K.  WHITS. 


162  SACKED  POETRY. 


113.      DEATH  OF  A  BELIEVER. 


1  O  think  that,  while  you're  weeping  here, 

His  hand  a  golden  harp  is  stringing ; 
And,  with  a  voice  serene  and  clear 
His  ransom'd  soul,  without  a  tear, 

His  Saviour's  praise  is  singing ! 

2  And  think  that  all  his  pains  are  fled, 

His  toils  and  sorrows  clos'd  for  ever ; 
While  He,  whose  blood  for  man  was  shed, 
Has  placed  upon  his  servant's  head 

A  crown  that  fadeth  never ! 

3  And  think  that,  in  that  awful  day, 

When  darkness  sun  and  moon  is  shading. 
The  form  that,  'midst  its  kindred  clay, 
Your  trembling  hands  prepare  to  lay, 

Shall  rise  to  life  unfading ! 

4  Then  weep  no  more  for  him  who's  gone 

Where  sin  and  suff  'ring  ne'er  shall  enter 
But  on  that  great  High  Priest  alone, 
Who  can  for  guilt  like  ours  atone, 

Your  own  affections  centre ! 


SACRED  POETRY.  163 

5  For  thus,  while  round  your  lowly  bier 

Surviving  friends  are  sadly  bending, 
Your  souls,  like  his,  to  Jesus  dear, 
Shall  wing  their  flight  to  yonder  sphere, 

Faith  lightest  pinions  lending. 

6  And  thus,  when  to  the  silent  tomb 

Your  lifeless  dust  like  his  is  given, 
Like  faith  shall  whisper,  'midst  the  gloom, 
That  yet  again,  in  youthful  bloom, 

That  dust  shall  smile  in  heaven ! 


114.    DEATH  OF  A  YOUNG  CHRIS- 
TIAN. 

1  O  grieve  not  for  him  with  the  wildness 

of  sorrow, 
As  those  who  in  hopeless  despondency 

weep :  [borrow, 

From  God's  holy  word  consolation  we 
For  souls  who  in  Jesus  confidingly  sleep. 

2  Lament  not  your  lov'd  one,  but  triumph 

the  rather,  [Lamb ; 

To  think  of  the  promise,  the  pray'r  of  iho 
"  Your  joy  shall  be  full,"  and  "  I  will,  oh, 

my  Father! 


164  SACRED  POETRY. 

That  those  whom  thou  giv'st  me  may  be 
where  I  am." 

3  His   own  sacred  lip  the  assurance  hath 

given ; 
Believe  on  your  God,  on  your  Saviour 

believe; 
I  go  to  prepare  you  a  mansion  in  heaven, 
And,  quickly  returning,  my  own  will  re- 
ceive. 

4  And  was  it   not   so   with  your   darling 

when  saying, 
The  gate  would  unclose,  and  the  Saviour 

appear?  [ing 

Like  Stephen,  the  glory  of  Jesus  survey- 
He  breath'd  out  his  spirit  with  "  Lord,  . 

am  here." 

5  And  where  is  that  spirit  ?  washed  whiti 

in  the  fountain, 
Presented  unblamably  pure  at  the  throne ; 
The  love  and  the  mercy  of  Jesus  recount 

ing,  [own 

To  souls  that  are  dwelling  in  joy  like  hi 

6  In  rapture  unsated,  in  glory  unclouded, 
He  rests  before  God  with  the  angels  c 

light ;  [now  shroudec 

Till  the  form  in  corruption  and  darknes 
BhaD  rise  at  the  trump,  with  the  soul  t 

anite. 


SACRED  POETRY.  165 

7  Refin'd  from    all  grossness,    and   purg'd 

from  its  leaven, 
Its  sins  blotted  out,  and  its  sorrows  all 

fled, 
Made  meet  for   a   bright    habitation    in 

heaven, 
O !  who  would  not  rest  with  the  justified 

dead  ? 

8  Nay,  weep  not  for  him — for  the  flower  of 

the  morning — 
So  dear  to  your  bosom,  so  fair  in  your 

eyes  ; 
But  weep  for  the   souls    unbelievingly 

scorning 
The  counsel  and  truth  of  the  "  God  only 

wise." 

9  He  came  to  the   cross  when  his  young 

cheek  was  blootning, 

And  rais'd  to  the  Lord  the  bright  glance 
of  his  eye  ; 

And  when  o'er  its  beauty  death's  dark- 
ness was  glooming, 

The  cross  did  uphold  him,  the  Saviour 
was  nigh. 

10  I  saw  the  black  pall  o'er  his  relics  ex- 
tended, 
I  wept,  but  they  were  not  the  tear-drop* 
of  woe  t 


166  SACRED  POETRY. 

The  pray'r  of  my  soul  that  in   fervour 

ascended, 
Was,  "  Lord,  when  thou  callest,  like  him 

may  I  go."  anon. 


115.       THE  AGED  PATRIARCH. 

Of  life's  past  woes  the  fading  trace, 

Hath  given  that  aged  patriarch's  face, 

Expression  holy,  deep,  resign'd, 

The  calm  sublimity  of  mind. 

Years  o'er  his  snowy  head  have  past, 

And  left  him  of  his  race  the  last, 

Alone  on  earth,  but  yet  his  mien 

Is  bright  with  majesty  serene  ; 

And  those  high  hopes,  whose  guiding  star 

Shines  from  eternal  worlds  afar, 

Have  with  that  light  illumed  his  eye 

Whose  fount  is  immortality  ; 

And  o'er  his  features  pour'd  a  ray 

Of  glory,  not  to  pass  away. 

He  seems  a  being  who  hath  known 

Communion  with  his  God  alone, 

On  earth  by  nought  but  pity's  tie, 

Detain'd  a  moment  from  on  high, 

One  to  sublimer  worlds  allied, 

One  from  all  passions  purified, 

E'en  now  half  mingled  with  the  sky 

And  all  prepared,  oh  !  not  to  die. 


SACRED  POETRY.  167 

But  like  the  prophet,  to  aspire 
In  heaven's  triumphal  car  of  fire ! 

MRS.  HEMANS. 


116.    THE  REDEEMED  IN  HEAVEN. 

1  Lift  up  your  eyes  of  faith,  and  see 

Saints  and  angels  joined  in  one ; 
What  a  countless  company 

Meet  before  yon  dazzling  throne ! 
Each  before  his  Saviour  stands, 

All  in  milk-white  robes  array'd; 
Palms  they  carry  in  their  hands, 

Crowns  of  glory  on  their  head. 

2  Saints,  begin  the  endless  song, 

Cry  aloud  in  heav'nly  lays ; 
Glory  doth  to  God  belong ; 

God,  the  glorious  Saviour,  praise : 
AH  salvation  from  him  came ; 

Him,  who  reigns  enthron'd  on  high; 
Glory  to  the  bleeding  Lamb, 

Let  the  morning  stars  reply. 

3  Angel  powers  the  throne  surround, 

Next  the  saints  in  glory  they ; 

Lull'd  with  the  transporting  sound, 

They  their  silent  homage  pay : 


168  SACRED  POETRY. 

Prostrate  on  their  face  before 

God  and  his  Messiah  fall ; 
Then  in  hymns  of  praise  adore, 

Shout  the  Lamb,  who  died  for  all. 

4  Be  it  so,  they  all  reply, 

Him  let  all  our  orders  praise ; 
Him  that  did  for  sinners  die, 

Saviour  of  the  favour'd  race. 
Render  we  our  God  his  right, 

Glory,  wisdom,  thanks,  and  pow'r ; 
Honour,  majesty,  and  might ; 

Praise  him,  praise  him  evermore. 

WESLEY. 


117. 


FAITH. 


1  My  Father  knows  my  feeble  frame, 
He  knows  how  poor  a  worm  I  am ; 

Untold  he  knows  it  all : 
The  least  temptation  serves  to  draw 
My  footsteps  from  my  Father's  law, 

And  make  me  slide  and  fall. 

2  Of  this  I  give  him  daily  proof, 
And  yet  he  does  not  cast  me  off, 

But  owns  me  still  as  his ; 
He  spares,  he  pities,  he  forgives 
The  most  rebellious  child  that  lives, 

So  great  his  patience  is. 


8ACEED  POETRY.  169 

3  And  shall  I  then  a  pretext  draw, 
Again  to  violate  his  law  ? 

My  soul  revolts  at  this : 
I'll  love,  and  wonder,  and  adore, 
And  beg  that  I  may  sin  no  more 

Against  such  love  as  his. 

4  O  love  divine  !  eternal  source 

Of  good  to  man  !  I  mark  thy  course, 

I  mark  it  with  delight ; 
To  Bethlehem  I  follow  thee, 
And  there  the  wondrous  Babe  I  see,— 

A  cheering,  glorious  sighr. 

5  I  trace  thee  thence  to  Calvary, 

And  there  the  "  Man  of  Sorrows"  see, 

His  body  bath'd  in  blood ; 
The  stream  I  follow'd  from  its  source, 
Now  pours  with  a  resistless  force, 

A  rapid  swelling  flood. 

6  Its  waters  health  and  healing  bring, 
They  make  the  waste  rejoice  and  sing, 

Their  progress  thus  we  trace ; 
They  pour  their  virtues  through  the  earth, 
They  fill  the  world  with  sacred  mirth, 

And  gladden  ev'ry  place. 

KELLY* 


170  SACRED  POETRY. 

118.  MAN  HONOURED  ABOVE  ANGELS. 

1  Now  let  us  join  with  hearts  and  tongues, 
And  emulate  the  angels'  songs ; 

Yea,  sinners  may  address  their  King, 
In  songs  that  angels  cannot  sing. 

2  They  praise  the  Lamb  who  once  was  slain, 
But  we  can  add  a  higher  strain, 

Not  only  say,  "  he  suffered  thus," 
But  that  "  he  suffered  all  for  us." 

3  Jesus,  who  pass'd  the  angels  by, 
Assum'd  Our  flesh  to  bleed  and  die ; 
And  still  he  makes  it  his  abode ; 
As  man,  he  fills  the  throne  of  God. 

4  Our  next  of  kin,  our  brother  now, 
Is  he  to  whom  the  angels  bow ; 
They  join  with  us  to  praise  his  name, 
But  we  the  nearest  interest  claim. 

5  But  ah !  how  faint  our  praises  rise ! 
Sure  'tis  the  wonder  of  the  skies, 
That  we  who  share  his  richest  love, 
So  cold  and  unconcern'd  should  prove. 

6  Oh !  glorious  hour,  it  comes  with  speed, 
When  we,  from  sin  and  darkness  freed, 
Shall  see  his  face,  who  died  for  man, 
And  praise  him  more  than  angels  can. 

NEWTON. 


SACRED   POETRY.  171 

119.  NEW  YEAR. 


1  Spar'd  through  grace  another  year, 

Good  it  is  to  praise  the  Lord ; 
Good  to  meet  our  Saviour  here, 
Good  his  mercies  to  record. 

2  Foes  we  have,  unseen  and  seen, 

Foes  too  strong  for  us  to  meet ; 

But  the  Lord  our  strength  has  been, 

And  our  foes  have  found  defeat. 

3  When  our  foes  we  greatly  fear'd, 

When  we  seem'd  an  easy  prey ; 
Then  it  was  the  Lord  appear'd, 
Then  he  drove  our  foes  away. 

4  Then  he  seem'd  to  ask  us  why, 

When  the  foe  appear'd  in  view, 
We  should  fear,  and  he  so  nigh, 
WTe  should  doubt,  and  he  so  true  ? 

5  Saviour,  all  our  sins  forgive, 

Make  us  what  we  ought  to  be ; 
Let  us  by  thy  mercy  live, 
And  in  heav'n  thy  glory  see. 

KELLY. 


172     SACRED  POETRY. 
120.   ON  A  SLEEPING  BOY. 


1  Sleep  !  and  while  slumber  weighs  thine 

eyelids  down, 

May  no  dread  phantom  o'er  thy  pillow 
frown, 

But  brightest  visions  deck  thy  tranquil 
bed, 

And  angel's  wing  o'ercanopy  thy  head. 

Sleep  on,  sweet  boy,  may  no  dark  dream 
arise, 

To  mar  thy  rosy  rest,  thou  babe  of  Pa- 
radise ! 

2  See  where  the  glowing  hands  are  closely 

prest, 

As  when  from  prayer  he  softly  sunk  to 
rest ; 

Mark,  how  with  half  closed  lips  and  che- 
rub smile, 

He  looks  as  still  he  prayed  and  slept  the 
while. 

Yet,  yet  they  seem  as  if  they  whispered 
praise, 

Tor  all  the  blessings  of  his  halcyon 
days. 


SACRED  POETRY.  173 

3  Bid,  O  Almighty  Father,  God,  and  friend, 
Religion's  glories  on  his  steps  attend, 
To  shine  through  all  the  dreary  storms 

of  life, 
A  splendid  beacon  o'er  this  world  of  strife. 
And  when  to  thee  recall'd  he  sinks  in 

death, 
May    prayer    and    praise    still    bless  his 

parting  breath ! 

SIR  T.  E.  CROFT. 


121.   SONG  OF  A  CAPTIVE  JEW- 
IN  BABYLON. 


1  Let  the  proud  veil  of  darkness  be  roll'd 

from  before  thee, 
O  Lord  !  and  descend  on  the  wing  of 

the  storm  : 
Dispers'd,  or  enslav'd,  are  the  saints  that 

adore  thee, 
And  the  rude  hands  of  strangers  thy 

temple  deform. 

2  And  Salem,  our  Salem,  lies  low  and  de- 

graded, 
While  far  from  her  ruins  in  exile  we 
pine ; 


174  SACRED  POETRY. 

Yet  still  is  the  hope  of  thy  remnant  un- 
faded — 
The  hand  that  implants  it,  Jehovah,  is 
thine. 

3  Alas !  we  were   warn'd,   but  we   reck'd 

not  the  warning, 
Till  our  warriors  grew  weak  in  the  day 
\  of  despair : 

And  our  glory  was  fled  as  the  light  cloud 
of  morning, 
That  gleams  for  a  moment,  and  melts 
into  air. 

4  As  the  proud  heathens  trampled  o'er  Zion's 

sad  daughter, 
She  wept  tears  of  blood  o'er  her  guilt 

and  her  woe ; 
For  the  voice  of  her  God  had  commission'd 

the  slaughter, 
The  rod  of  his  vengeance  had  pointed 

the  blow. 

5  Though  foul  are  the  sins,  oh  thou  lost  one ! 

that  stain'd  thee,  [away ; 

The  blood  of  atonement  can  wash  them 

Tho'  galling  and  base  are  the  bonds  that 

enchain  thee, 
The  God  who  impos'd  them  can  lighten 

the  sway. 


SACRED  POETRY.  17^ 

6  For  a  star  yet  shall  rise  o'er  the  darkness 
of  Judah, 
A  branch  yet  shall  flourish  on  Jesse'3 
proud  stem : 
And  Zlon  shall  triumph  o'er  those  that 
subdu'd  her, 
Yea,  triumph  in   giving  a  Saviour  to 
them ! 


122.    THE  HEAVENLY  TEMPLE. 

1  Where  high  the  heavenly  temple  stands, 
The  house  of  God  not  made  with  hands, 
A  great  High  Priest  our  nature  wears, 
The  guardian  of  mankind  appears. 

2  He  who  for  men  their  surety  stood, 
And  pour'd  on  earth  his  precious  blood, 
Pursues  in  heaven  his  mighty  plan, 
The  Saviour  and  the  friend  of  man. 

3  Though  now  ascended  up  on  high, 
He  bends  on  earth  a  brother's  eye  ; 
Partaker  of  the  human  name, 

He  knows  the  frailty  of  our  frame. 

4  Our  fellow  suff'rer  yet  retains 
A  fellow-feeling  of  our  pains, 


176 


SACRED  POETEY. 


And  still  remembers  in  the  skies, 
His  tears,  his  agonies,  and  cries. 
In  ev'ry  pang  that  rends  the  heart, 
The  Man  of  Sorrows  had  a  part  3 
He  sympathizes  with  our  grief, 
And  to  the  suff'rer  sends  relief. 
With  boldness,  therefore,  at  the  throne 
Let  us  make  all  our  sorrows  known, 
And  ask  the  aids  of  heav'nly  pow'r 
To  help  us  in  the  evil  hour. 

LOGAN. 


123.      TO  A  DYING  CHRISTIAN. 


1  Parting  soul !  the  flood  awaits  thee, 
And  the  billows  round  thee  roar  : 
Yet  look  on — the  crystal  city 
Stands  on  yon  celestial  shore  ! 
There  are  crowns  and  thrones  of  glory, 
There  the  living  waters  glide  ; 

There  the  just,  in  shining  raiment, 
Wander  by  Emmanuel's  side. 

2  Linger  not — the  stream  is  narrow, 
Though  its  cold  dark  waters  rise  ; 
He  who  pass'd  the  flood  before  thee, 
Guides  thy  path  to  yonder  skies  : 
Hark  !  the  sound  of  angels  hymning 
Kolls  harmonious  o'er  thine  ear  : 


SACRED  POETRY.  177 

See !  the  walls  and  golden  portals 
Through  the  mist  of  death  appear. 

J  Soul,  adieu — this  gloomy  sojourn 
Holds  thy  captive  feet  no  more; 
Flesh  is  dropt,  and  sin  forsaken, 
Sorrow  done,  and  weeping  o'er. 
Thro'  the  tears  thy  friends  are  shedding, 
Smiles  of  hope  serenely  shine ; 
Not  a  friend  remains  behind  thee, 
But  would  change  his  lot  for  thine. 

EDMESTON. 


124.  'NOT  LOST,  BUT  GONE  BEFORE.' 


I  Say  why  should  friendship  grieve  for  those 
Who  safe  arrive  on  Canaan's  shore  ? 
Releas'd  from  all  their  hurtful  foes, 
They  are  not  lost — but  gone  before. 

I  How  many  painful  days  on  earth 
Their  fainting  spirits  number'd  o'er ! 
Now  they  enjoy  a  heav'nly  birth, 
They  are  not  lost — but  gone  before. 

J  Dear  is  the  spot  where  Christians  sleep, 
And  sweet  the  strain  which  angels  pour  j 
O  why  should  we  in  anguish  weep  ? 
They  are  not  lost — but  gone  before. 
M 


178  SACRED  POETRY. 

4  Secure  from  ev'ry  mortal  care, 
By  sin  and  sorrow  vex'd  no  more, 
Eternal  happiness  they  share, 
Who  are  not  lost — but  gone  before. 

5  To  Zion's  peaceful  courts  above, 
In  faith  triumphant  may  we  soar, 
Embracing  in  the  arms  of  iove 

The  friends  not  lost — but  gone  before, 

6  On  Jordan's  bank  whene'er  we  come, 
And  hear  the  swelling  waters  roar, 
Jesus,  convey  us  safely  home, 

To  friends  not  lost — but  gone  before. 

ANOl 


125.       MIDNIGHT  MEDITATION. 

1  When  restless  on  my  bed  I  lie, 

Still  courting  sleep  which  still  will  fly, 
Then  shall  reflection's  brighter  pow'r 
Illume  the  long  and  midnight  hour. 

2  If  hush'd  the  breeze  and  calm  the  tide, 
Soft  will  the  stream  of  memory  glide, 
And  all  the  past,  a  gentle  train, 
Wak'd  by  remembrance,  live  again. 

3  Perhaps  that  anxious  friend  I  trace, 
Belov'd  till  life's  last  throb  shall  cease. 


SACRED  POETRY.  179 

Whose  voice  first  taught  a  Saviour's  worth, 
A  future  bliss  unknown  on  earth. 

His  faithful  counsel,  tender  care, 
Unwearied  love,  and  humble  pray'r ; 

0  these  still  claim  the  grateful  tear, 
And  all  my  drooping  courage  cheer. 

If  loud  the  wind,  the  tempest  high, 
And  darkness  wraps  the  sullen  sky, 

1  muse  on  life's  tempestuous  sea, 
And  sigh,  O  Lord,  to  come  to  thee. 

Toss'd  on  the  deep  and  swelling  wave, 
O  mark  my  trembling  soul,  and  save ; 
Give  to  my  view  that  harbour  near, 
Where  thou  wilt  chase  each  grief  and  fear. 

NOEL. 


26.       LOOKING  TO  CHRIST. 

While  some  despise  all  self-control, 
And  seek  the  joys  that  wound  the  soul ; 
Be  mine  that  silent,  calm  repast, 
A  peaceful  conscience  to  the  last. 
That  tree  which  bears  immortal  fruit, 
Without  a  canker  at  the  root ; 
That  Friend  who  never  fails  the  just, 
While  other  friends  desert  their  trust* 


180  SACRED  POETRY. 

S  With  this  companion  through  the  shade, 
My  soul  no  more  shall  be  dismay'd ; 
And  if  my  Saviour  here  were  found, 
All  Eden's  bloom  shall  smile  around. 

4  Had  I  a  firm  and  lasting  faith, 
To  credit  all  his  promise  saith, 
Cheerful  I'd  meet  the  midnight  gloom, 
And  the  pale  regions  of  the  tomb. 

5  Though  tempests  drive  me  from  the  shore 
And  floods  descend  and  billows  roar; 
Though  death  appear'd  in  ev'ry  form, 
My  little  bark  should  brave  the  storm. 

6  Amidst  these  various  scenes  of  ills, 
Each  wound  some  kind  design  fulfils ; 
And  shall  I  murmur  at  my  God, 
When  changeless  love  directs  the  rod? 

7  Peace,  rebel  thoughts  !  I'll  not  complain 
My  father's  smiles  suspend  my  pain ; 
Smiles  that  a  thousand  joys  impart, 
And  pour  the  balm  that  heals  the  heart, 

8  Though  heav'n  afflicts,  I'll  not  repine ; 
Each  real  comfort  still  is  mine ; 
Comforts  that  shall  o'er  death  prevail, 
And  journey  with  me  through  the  vale. 

9  Saviour !  O  smooth  that  rugged  way, 
And  lead  me  to  the  realms  of  day ; 
To  milder  skies  and  brighter  plains, 
Where  everlasting  sunshine  reigns ! 

COTTON. 


SACRED  POETRY.  181 

127.    OMNIPRESENCE  OF  GOD. 


0  thou  by  long  experience  tried, 
Near  whom  no  grief  can  long  abide ; 
My  Lord,  how  full  of  sweet  content 

1  pass  my  years  of  banishment. 

All  scenes  alike  engaging  prove 
To  souls  impress'd  with  sacred  love ! 
Where'er  they  dwell,  they  dwell  in  thee  ; 
In  heav'n,  in  earth,  or  on  the  sea. 

To  me  remains  nor  place  nor  time, 
My  country  is  in  ev'ry  clime ; 
I  can  be  calm  and  free  from  care 
On  any  shore,  since  God  is  there. 

While  place  we  seek,  or  place  we  shun, 
The  soul  finds  happiness  in  none  ; 
But  with  my  God  to  guide  my  way, 
'Tis  equal  joy  to  go  or  stay. 

Could  I  be  cast  where  thou  art  not, 
That  were  indeed  a  dreadful  thought ; 
But  regions  none  remote  I  call, 
Secure  of  finding  God  in  all. 

GUION. 


182  SACRED  POETRY. 

128.     ON    THE    DEATH    OF    AN 
INFANT  DAUGHTER. 


'    Sweet  babe,  she  glanc'd  into  our  world 
to  see 
A  sample  of  our  misery, 
Then  turn'd  away  her  languid  eye 
To  drop  a  tear  or  two  and  die. 
Sweet  babe,  she  tasted  of  life's  bitter  cup, 
Refus'd  to  drink  the  potion  up  ! 
But  turn'd  her  little  head  aside, 
Disgusted  with  the  taste,  and  died. 
Sweet  babe,  she  listened  for  a  while  to  heai 
Our  mortal  griefs,  then  turn'd  her  ear 
To  angels'  harps  and  songs,  and  cried — 
To  join  their  notes  celestial,  sighed  an<3 
died. 

2  Sweet  babe  no  more,  but  seraph  now, 
Before  the  throne  behold  her  bow, 
To  heav'nly  joys  her  spirit  flies, 
Blest  in  the  triumph  of  the  skies, 
Adores  the  grace  that  brought  her  there 
Without  a  wish — without  a  care, 
That  wash'd  her  soul  in  Calv'ry's  stream, 
Tnat  shorten'd  life's  distressing  dream. 


SACRED  POETRY.  183 

Short  pain — short  grief — dear  babe,  was 

thine, 
Now  joys  eternal  and  divine. 

3  Yes,  thou  art  fled,  and  saints  a  welcome 

sing, 
Thine  infant  spirit  soars  on  angels'  wing ; 
Our  dark  affection  should  have  hop'd  thy 

stay, 
The  voice  of  God  has  caWd  His  child  away 
Like  Samuel  early  in  the  temple  found, 
Sweet  Rose  of  Sharon,   plant   of  holy 

ground, 
Oh  !  more  than  Samuel  blest,  to  thee  'tis 

given, 
The  God  he  serv'd  on  earth,  to  serve  in 

Heaven. 

CUNNINGHAM. 


L29.  RISING  TO  GOD. 

I   Now  let  our  souls  on  wings  sublime, 
Rise  from  the  vanities  of  time ; 
Draw  back  the  parting  veil,  and  see 
The  glories  of  eternity. 

I  Born  by  a  new  celestial  birth, 

Why  should  we  grovel  here  on  earth  ? 


184  SACRED  POETRY. 

Why  grasp  at  transitory  toys, 

So  near  to  heaven's  eternal  joys  ? 

3  Shall  aught  beguile  us  on  the  road, 

When  we  are  walking  back  to  God  j 
For  strangers  unto  life  we  come, 
And  dying  is  but  going  home. 

4«  Welcome  sweet  hour  of  full  discharge, 
That  sets  our  longing  souls  at  large, 
Unbinds  our  chains,  breaks  up  our  cell, 
And  gives  us  with  our  God  to  dwell. 

5  To  dwell  with  God,  to  fe,el  his  love, 
Is  the  full  heaven  enjoyed  above ; 
And  the  sweet  expectation  now, 
Is  the  young  dawn  of  heaven  below. 


130.  JEWISH  SOCIETY. 

On  this  labour  of  love  may  a  blessing  at- 
tend ; 

May  the  Shepherd  of  Israel  his  Salem  be- 
friend ; 

And  hasten  that  period,  by  prophets  fore- 
told, 

When  the  stragglers  of  Judah  shall  rest 
in  his  fold. 


SACRED  POETRY.  185 

!  For  surely  the  time  is  approaching  when 

He 
Will  set,  in  his  love,  the  law's  prisoners 

free; 
And  send  them  to  feed  in  the  ways  of  his 

grace, 
And  find  them  a  pasture  in  ev'ry  high 

place. 

I  Behold,  they  shall  come  from  afar  at  his 

word, 
Which  alike  in  the  north  and  the  west 

shall  be  heard  ; 
His  uplifted  standard  shall  Sinim's  land 

see, 
And  a  light  to  the  Gentiles  his  people 

shall  be. 

t  Awaken,  O  Zion,  and  put  on  thy  strength. 
And  array  thee  in  beautiful  garments  at 

length : 
Shake  thyself  from   the   dust  with  the 

might  of  the  strong, 
And  cast  off  the  bands  which  have  bound 

thee  so  long. 

5  The  sons  of  the  strangers  thy  walls  shall 
rebuild, 
Thy  gates  shall  be  open,  thy  couits  shall 
befill'd; 


186  SACEED  POETRY. 

God  once  smote  thee  in  anger,  but  now 

thou  shalt  see 
That  He,  in  his  favour,  hath  mercy  on 

thee. 

6  The  Lord,  in  his  glory,  upon  thee  shall 

rise ; 
The  Gentiles  shall  come  to  thy  light  with 

surprise ; 
And  their  kings  shall  rejoice  thy  bright 

rising  to  greet, 
When  God  shall  make  glorious  the  place 

of  his  feet- 

7  Then  shall  ye,  poor  wand'rers,  no  longer 

roam  wide, 

For  a  greater  than  Moses  your  footsteps 
shall  guide ; 

Not  unto  the  mount,  where  the  trumpet 
once  sounded, 

With  blackness,  and  darkness,  and  tem- 
pest surrounded ; 

8  But  unto  mount  Zion,  the  city  of  God, 
The  courts  of  whose  temples  by  angels  are 

trod; 
To  the  church  of  the  first-born,  recorded 

above, 
And  the  spirits  of  just  men,  made  perfect 

by  love ; 


SACEED  POETRY.  187 

9  And  to  Him,  whose  new  priesthood  shall 

ever  endure, 
More  pow'rful  than  Aaron's,  more  holy, 

more  pare  ; 
Who  needeth  not  daily  oblations  to  make, 
Having  offer'd  up  freely  himself  for  your 

sake. 

10  If  the  judgments  of  God  on  your  fathers 

went  forth, 
Who  were  deaf  unto  him  that  spake  only 

on  earth, 
O  refuse  not  the  boon  which  would  surely 

be  giv'n, 
Nor  turn  ye  from  Him  who  now  speaketh 

from  Heav'n. 

BARTON. 


131.       THE  EVENING  CLOUD. 


A  cloud  lay  cradled  near  the  setting  sun, 
A  gleam  of  crimson  ting'd  its  braided  snow  j 

Long  had  I  watch'd  the  glory  moving  on, 
O'er  the  still  radiance  of  the  lake  below : 

Tranquil  its  spirit  seem'd,  and  floated  slow, 
Ev'n  in  its  very  motion  there  was  r*»st, 


188  SACRED  POETRY. 

W'-'le  ev'ry  breath  of  eve  that  chanc'd  to 
blow, 
\\  afted  the  trav'ller  to  the  beauteous  west. 
Emblem,  methought,  of  the  departed  soul, 
To  whose  white  robe  the  gleam  of  bliss 
is  giv'n, 
And  by  the  breath  of  mercy  made  to  roll 
Right   onward   to   the    golden    gates   of 
heav'n  ; 
Where  to  the  eye  of  faith  it  peaceful  lies, 
And  tells  to  man  his  glorious  destinies. 

WILSON. 


132.      UNION  OF  CHRISTIANS. 

1  How  blest  the  sacred  tie  that  binds, 
In  union  sweet,  according  minds ! 
How  swift  the  heav'nly  course  they  run, 
Whose  hearts,  whose  faith,  whose  hopes 

are  one. 

2  To  each  the  soul  of  each  how  dear  ! 
What  zealous  love,  what  holy  fear  ! 
How  doth  the  generous  flame  within 
Refine  from  earth,  and  guard  from  sin ! 

3  Their  streaming  eyes  together  flow 
For  human  guilt  and  mortal  woe  ! 
Their  ardent  pray'rs  together  rise, 
Like  mingling  flames  in  sacrifice. 


SACRED  POETRY.  189 

4  Together  both  they  seek  the  place 
"Where  God  reveals  his  gracious  face  : 
How   high,    how    strong  their  raptures 

swell, 
There's  none  but  kindred  souls  can  tell. 

5  Nor  shall  the  glowing  flame  expire, 
When  nature  drops  her  sick'ning  fire ; 
Then  shall  they  meet  in  realms  above, 
A  heav'n  of  joy,  because  of  love. 

MRS.  BARBAULD. 


133.       THE  PARTING  SPIRIT. 


1  Farewell,  thou  vase  of  splendour, 

I  need  thy  light  no  more  : 
No  brilliance  dost  thou  render 
The  world  to  which  I  soar. 

2  Nor  sun  nor  moonbeam  brightens 

Those  regions  with  a  ray, 
But  God  himself  enlightens 
Their  one  eternal  day. 

3  Farewell,  sweet  nature  !  waving 

With  fruits  and  flow'rets  fair  ; 
Of  these  but  little  craving 

Of  what  thou  well  canst  spare, — 


190  SACRED  POETRY. 

4  Only  an  earthly  pillow 

To  bear  my  death-cold  head ; 
And  the  tnrf  and  drooping  willow 
To  deck  my  lowly  bed. 

5  The  world  to  which  I'm  going 

Has  fairer  fruit  than  thine, 
Life's  river's  ever  flowing, 
And  skies  that  ever  shine. 

6  Farewell,  each  dearest  union 

That  bless'd  my  earthly  hours  ; 
We  yet  shall  hold  communion 
In  amaranthine  bowers. 

7  The  love  that  seems  forsaken 

When  friends  in  death  depart, 
In  heav'n  again  shall  waken, 
And  repossess  the  heart. 

8  The  harps  of  heav'n  steal  o'er  me, 

I  see  the  jasper  wall, — 
Jesus,  who  pass'd  before  me, 
And  God,  the  Judge  of  all ! 

0  So  sang  the  parting  spirit, 

While  round  flow'd  many  a  tear, 
Then  spread  her  wings  t'  inherit 
Her  throne  in  yonder  sphere. 


EOMESTON. 


SACRED  POETRY.     191 


134.      LOVE  OF  GOD. 


Oh  !  never,  never  canst  thou  know 

What  then  for  thee  the  Saviour  bore, 
The  pangs  of  that  mysterious  woe 

That  wrung  his  frame  at  ev'ry  pore, 
The  weight  that  press'd  upon  his  brow, 
The  fever  of  his  bosom's  core  ! 
Yes  !  man  for  man  perchance  may  brave 
The  horrors  of  the  yawning  grave  ;  _ 
And  friend  for  friend,  or  child  for  sire, 
Undaunted  and  unmov'd  expire, 
From  love — or  piety — or  pride. 
But  who  can  die  as  Jesus  died  ? 

A  sweet  but  solitary  beam, 

An  emanation  from  above, 
Glimmers  o'er  life's  uncertain  dream, — 

We  hail  that  beam,  and  call  it  Love  ! 
But  fainter  than  the  pale  star's  ray 
Before  the  noontide  blaze  of  day, 
And  lighter  than  the  viewless  sand 
Beneath  the  wave  that  sweeps  the  strand, 
Is  all  of  love  that  man  can  know, — 
All  that  rri  angel  breasts  can  glow, — 
Compar'd,  O  Lord  of  Hosts  !  with  thine^ 
Eternal — fathomless — divine  1 


192  SACEED  POETRY. 

That  love,  whose  praise,  with  quenchless 

fire, 
Inflames  the  blest  seraphic  choir; 
Where  perfect  rapture  reigns  above, 
And  love  is  all— for  Thou  art  Love ! 


135.       UNION  OF  CHRISTIANS. 

1  Our  earthly  ties  are  weak, 

Whereon  we  dare  not  rest ; 
For  time  dissolves,  and  death  will  break 

The  sweetest  and  the  best. 
Yet  there's  a  tie  which  must  remain. 
Which  time  and  death  assault  in  vain. 

2  The  kindred  links  of  life  are  bright, 

Yet  not  so  bright  as  those 
In  which  Christ's  favour'd  friends  unite, 

And  each  on  each  repose ; 
Where  all  the  hearts  in  union  cling 
With  Him,  the  centre  and  the  spring. 

3  The  friends  of  Jesus,  join'd  to  think 

With  one  desire  and  aim, 
A  chain,  wherein  link  answers  link, 
A  heav'nly  kindred  claim. 
And  oh!  how  sweet,  wherein  each  mind 
A  throb  to  echo  theirs  they  find. 


SACRED  POETRY.  193 

Though  lovely  many  an  earthly  flow'r, 

Its  beauty  fades  and  flies  ; 
But  they  unchanging  form  a  bow'r. 
To  bloom  in  Paradise. 
Sprung  from  the  true  immortal  vine, 
In  Him  they  live,  and  round  him  twine. 

Their  bond  is  not  an  earthly  love, 

By  nature's  fondness  nurs'd  ; 
As  they  love  him  who  reigns  above, 
Because  he  lov'd  them  first ; 
So  they  all  minor  ties  disown, 
The  sweetest — for  his  sake  alone. 


136.  ON  HAPPINESS. 


1  True   happiness   is   not  the   growth  of 

earth  ;  [there  : 

The  search  is  useless    if  you  seek  it 
'Tis  an  exotic  of  celestial  birth, 
And  only  blossoms  in  celestial  air. 

2  Sweet  plant  of  paradise  !  its  seed  is  sown 

In  here  and  there  a  plant  of  heavenly 

mould ; 
It  rises  slow  and  buds,  but  ne'er  was  meant 
To  blossom  here — the  climate   is  too 

cold. 


194)  SACRED  POETRY. 

137.    CO*MMUNION  WITH  HEAVEN. 


When  one  who  holds  communion  with  the 

skies, 
Has  fill'd  his  urn  where  the  pure  waters  rise, 
And  once  more  mingles  with  us  meaner 

things, 
'Tis  even  as  if  an  angel  shook  his  wings; 
Immortal  fragrance  fills  the  circuit  wide, 
And  tells  us  where  his  treasure  is  supplied. 

cowper. 


138.       GOD  UNCHANGEABLE. 

i  Not  seldom,  clad  in  radiant  vest, 
Deceitfully  goes  forth  the  morn  ; 
Not  seldom  ev'ning,  in  the  west, 
Sinks  smilingly  forsworn. 

2  The  smoothest  seas  will  sometimes  prov* 

To  the  confiding  bark  untrue  ; 

And  if  she  trusts  the  stars  above, 

They  can  be  treach'rous  too. 

3  The  umbrageous  bark,  in  pomp  outspreac 

Full  oft,  when  storms  the  welkin  renc 


SACRED  POETRY.  195 

Draws  lightning  down  upon  the  head 
It  promis'd  to  defend. 

%  But  thou  art  true,  incarnate  Lord  ! 

"Who  did'st  vouchsafe  for  man  to  die ; 
Thy  smile  is  sure,  thy  plighted  word 
No  change  can  falsify. 

5  I  bent  before  thy  gracious  throne, 

And  ask'd  for  peace  with  suppliant  knee ; 
And  peace  was  giv'n — nor  peace  alone, 
But  faith,  and  hope,  and  ecstasy. 

WORDSWORTH. 


139.  "  ANGELS  SENT  TO  MINISTER.' 


And  is  there  care  in  heaven?  and  is 
there  love 

In  heav'nly  spirits  to  these  creatures 
base, 

That  may  compassion  of  their  evils 
move? 

There  is ;  else  much  more  wretched 
were  the  case 

Of  men  than  beasts.  But  oh  the  ex- 
ceeding grace 


196  SACRED   POETRY, 

Of  highest  God !  that  loves  his  crea- 
tures so, 

And  all  his  works  with  mercy  doth 
embrace, 

That  blessed  angels  he  sends  to  and  fro, 
To  serve  to  wicked  man, — to  serve  his 
wicked  foe. 


How  oft  do  they  their  silver  bowers 
leave,    , 

To  come  to  succour  us,  that  succour 
want ! 

How  oft  do  they  with  golden  pinions 
cleave 

The  flitting  skies,  like  flying  pursuiv- 
ants 

Against  fowle  fiends  to  ayd  us  militant. 

They   for    us  fight,    they  watch   and 
dewly  ward, 

And  their  bright  squadrons  round  a- 
bout  us  plant ; 

And  all  for  love,  and  nothing  for  re- 
ward : 
Oh!  why  should  heav'nly  God  to  man 
have  such  regard  ! 

SPENSER. 


SACRED  POETRY.  19^ 

140.    GRAVE  OF  A  CHRISTIAN. 


1  There  is  a  spot — a  lovely  spot, 

Embosom'd  in  a  valley's  dell ; 
The  eye  of  splendour  marks  it  not, 
Nor  travelers  of  its  beauties  tell. 

2  The  hazel  forms  a  green  bow'r  there  ; 

Beneath,  the  grassy  cov'ring  lies ; 
And  forest  flowers  surpassing  fair, 
Mingle  their  soft  and  lovely  dyes. 

J  Morn  decks  the  spot  with  many  a  gem, 
And  the  first  break  of  eastern  ray 
Lights  up  a  spark  in  each  of  them, 
That  seems  to  hail  the  op'ning  day. 

t  When  first  that  beam  of  morning  breaks, 
The  fancy  here  a  smile  may  see, 
Like  that  when  first  the  saint  awakes 
At  dawn  of  immortality. 

»  The  free  birds  love  to  seek  the  shade, 
And  here  they  sing  their  sweetest  lays ; 
Meet  requiem  !— He  who  there  is  laid, 
Breath'd  his  last  dying  voice  in  praise. 

<  And  here  the  villager  will  stray, 

What  time  his  daily  work  is  done, 


198  SACRED  POETRY, 

When  ev'ning  sheds  the  western  ray 
Of  sweet  departing  summer  sun. 

7  On  lovely  lips  his  name  is  found, 

And  simple  hearts  yet  hold  him  dear; 
The  Patriarch  of  the  village  round, — 
The  Pastor  of  the  chapel  near. 

8  The  holy  cautions  that  he  gave,— 

The  pray'rs  he  breath'd — the  tears  he 
wept, — 
Yet  linger  here,  though  in  his  grave, 
Through  many  a  year  the  saint  has 
slept. 

9  And  oft  the  villager  has  said,— 

"  O  I  remember,  when  a  child, 
"  He  plac'd  his  hand  upon  my  head, 
«  And  bless'd  me  then,  and  sweetly 
smil'd. 

10  "  'Twashe  that  led  me  to  my  God, 

«  And  taught  me  to  obey  his  will ; 
"  The  holy  path  which  he  has  trod, 
"  Oh  !  be  it  mine  to  follow  still." 

1 1  Grave  of  the  righteous  !  surely  there 

The  sweetest  bloom  of  beauty  is : 
Oh  !  may  I  sleep  in  couch  as  fair, 
And  with  a  hope  as  bright  as  his  ! 

EDMESTON. 


SACRED  POETRY.  199 

141.  HEAVEN. 

I  Hail  !  the  heavenly  scenes  of  peace, 
Where  all  the  storms  of  passion  cease ; 
Wild  life's  dismaying  struggle  o'er, 
The  wearied  spirit  weeps  no  more— 

I  But  wears  th'  eternal  smile  of  joy, 
Attaining  bliss  without  alloy ! 
Welcome,  welcome,  happy  bowers, 
Where  no  passing  tempest  lowers  ; 

3  Where  the  azure  heavens  display 
The  everlasting  beams  of  day ; 
Where  the  radiant  seraph  choirs 
Pour  their  strains  from  golden  lyres ; 

1  Where  calm  the  spirit  sinks  to  ease, 
Lull'd  by  angelic  symphonies  ! 
O,  then  to  think  of  meeting  there 
The  friends  whose  grave  receiv'd  our  tear 

5  The  child  long  lost,  the  wife  bereav'd, 
Back  to  our.  widow'd  arms  receiv'd! 
And  all  the  joys  which  death  did  sever, 
Given  to  us  again  for  ever ! 

f  O,  Lamb  of  God,  by  sorrow  prov'd 
The  Friend  of  man,  the  Christ  beiov'd, 


200         SACKED  POETRY. 

To  thee  this  sweetest  hope  we  owe, 
Which  warms  our  shiv'ring  hearts  below, 

H.  K.  WHITE. 


142.    THE    DAYS   OF  THY  MOURN- 
ING  SHALL  BE  ENDED. 


Oh  !  weep  not  for  the  joys  that  fade 

Like  ev'ning  lights  away — 
For  hopes  that,  like  the  stars  decay'd, 

Have  left  thy  mortal  day ; 
For  clouds  of  sorrow  will  depart, 
And  brilliant  skies  be  giv'n  ; 
And  though  on  earth  the  tear  may  start, 

Yet  bliss  awaits  the  holy  heart 
Amid  the  bowers  of  heav'n. 

Oh  !   weep  not  for  the  friends  that  pass 

Into  the  lonesome  grave, 
As  breezes  sweep  the  wither'd  grass 

Along  the  restless  wave  ; 
For  though  thy  pleasures  may  depart, 
And  darksome  days  be  giv'n, — 
And  lonely  though  on  earth  thou  art, 

Yet  bliss  awaits  the  holy  heart 
When  friends  rejoin  in  heaven. 

KNO 


SACRED  POETRY.  201 


143.    ON    HEARING    THE  CLOCK   STRIKE 
TWELVE  AT  NIGHT,  DECEMBER  Slst. 

1  Knell  of  departed  years, 

Thy  voice  is  sweet  to  me  ; 
It  wakes  no  sad  foreboding  fears, 
Calls  forth  no  sympathetic  tears, 

Time's  restless  course  to  see  ; 
From  hallow'd  ground 
I  hear  the  sound 
Diffusing   through  the  air   a   holy  calm 
around. 

2  Thou  art  the  voice  of  Love ; 

To  chide  each  doubt  away ; 
And  as  the  murmur  faintly  dies, 
Visions  of  past  enjoyments  rise 
In  long  and  bright  array : 
I  hail  the  sign, 
That  love  divine 
Will  o'er   my   future   path   in  cloudless 
mercy  shine. 

3  Thou  art  the  voice  of  Hope  ; 

The  music  of  the  spheres — 
A  song  of  blessings  yet  to  come, 
A  herald  from  my  future  home, 

My  soul  delighted  hears : 


202  SACRED  POETRY. 

By  sin  deceived, 

By  nature  grieved, 
Still  am   I  nearer  rest  than  when  I  first 

believed. 
4  Thou  art  the  voice  of  Life  ; 

A  sound  which  seems  to  say, 
O  prisoner  in  this  gloomy  vale, 
Thy  flesh  shall  faint,  thy  heart  shall  fail ; 
Yet  fairer  scenes  thy  spirit  hail, 
That  cannot  pass  away ; 

Here,  grief  and  pain 

Thy  steps  detain, 
There,  in  the  image  of  the  Lord,  shalt 

thou  with  Jesus  reign. 

ANON. 

i44.    a  summer's  evening. 


1  How  fine  has  the  day  been,  how  bright 

was  the  sun, 
How  lovely  and  joyful  the  course  that  he 

run  ! 
Though  he  rose  in  a  mist,  when  his  race 

he  began, 
And  there  follow'd  some  droppings  of 

rain. 
But  now  the  fair  traveller's  come  to  the 

west, 


SACRED  POETRY.  203 

His  rays  are  all  gold,  and  his  beauties  are 
best ;  [rest, 

He  paints  the  sky  gay  as  he  sinks  to  his 
And  foretels  a  bright  rising  again. 

2  Just  such  is  the  Christian  !  his  course 

he  begins, 
Like  the  sun  in  a  mist,  when  he  mourns 

for  his  sins, 
And  melts  into  tears ;  then  he  breaks  out 

and  shines, 
And  travels  his  heavenly  way : 
But  when  he  comes  nearer  to  finish  his 

race, 
Like  a  fine  setting  sun,  he  looks  richer 

in  grace,  [days, 

And  gives  a  sure  hope  at  the  end  of  his 
Of  rising  in  brighter  array.  watts. 


145.         angels'  visits. 


O  may  thy  angels,  while  I  sleep, 
Around  my  bed  their  vigils  keep 
Their  love  angelical  instil, 
Stop  every  avenue  of  ill, 
May  thy  celestial  joy  rehearse, 
And  thought  to  thought  with  me  converse, 
bishop  kenn. 


204  SACRED  POETRY. 

146.  THY  BROTHER  SHALL  RISE  AGAIN. 

Lines  written  on  a  Christian  Minister  who  had  wan- 
dered  into  error. 


1  Come,  O  Jesus  !  strong  to  save, 
Seek  with  us  our  brother's  grave  ; 
Death  is  o'er  his  features  spread, 
Darkness  veils  his  drooping  head  ; 
Must  our  prayers  and  tears  be  vain  ? 
Tell  us,  "  he  shall  rise  again  I" 

2  We  have  heard  him  speak  of  Thee, 
Till  we  felt  from  sin  set  free, 

Till  the  message  from  above 
Drew  our  hearts  to  seek  thy  love : 
Why  should  death  those  lips  enchain  ? 
Bid  them  yet  unclose  again. 

8  Lord  !  we  know  that  he  shall  rise, 
When  thy  trumpet  from  the  skies 
Tells  the  ungodly  world  their  doom, 
And  thy  people  summons  home ; 
But,  lest  foes  thy  power  arraign, 
Here,  oh  let  him  rise  again  ! 

4  Thou  at  first  didst  life  bestow, 
And,  with  life,  thy  goodness  show ; 
Tho*  the  enemy  prevail, 
And  thy  glorious  work  assail, 


SACRED  POETRY.  205 

Still  o'er  death  assert  thy  reign, 
Snatch  his  awful  prey  again ! 

Thou  hast  said,  dear  Lord,  that  we, 
Faithful,  should  thy  glory  see  ; 
We  thy  saving  power  believe, 
In  thy  hands  our  brother  leave  ; 
We  have  sought  thee  not  in  vain, 
Thou  wilt  bid  him  rise  again  ! 

We  this  grave  have  wept  beside, 
Thou  hast  for  its  prisoner  died  ! 
And  we  claim  thy  word  divine, 
Ne'er  thy  ransom'd  to  resign  ; 
Thou  couldst  never  bleed  in  vain, 
He  must  rise  and  live  again ! 

Yet  once  more  that  well-known  voice 
Shall  thy  waiting  flock  rejoice, 
Shall  thy  wondrous  love  record, 
To  a  sinner  twice  restored  : 
While  we  raise  the  grateful  strain, 
"  He  was  dead,  and  lives  again  !" 

ANOX* 


147.  THE  BEACON. 

1  The  scene  was  more  beautiful  far  to  my  eye, 
Than  if  day  in  its  pride  had  array'd  it ; 


206  SACEED  POETRY. 

The  land-breeze  blew  mild,  and  the  azure- 
arch'd  sky 
Look'd  pure  as  the  Spirit  that  made  it. 

2  The  murmur  rose  soft  as  I  silently  gaz'd 
On  the  shadowy  waves'  playful  motion : 

From  the  dim  distant  isle  till  the  beacon- 
fire  blaz'd, 
Like  a  star  in  the  midst  of  the  ocean. 

3  No  longer  the  joy  of  the  sailor-boy's  breast 
Was  heard  in  his  wildly-breath'd  numbers; 

The  sea-bird  has  flown  to  her  wave-girdled 
nest, 
The  fisherman  sunk  to  his  slumbers. 

4  I  sigh'd  as  I  look'd  from  the  hills'  gentle 

slope ; 
All  hush'd  was  the  billows'  commotion  : 
And  I  thought  that  the  beacon  look'd  lovely 

as  hope, 
That  star  of  life's  tremulous  ocean. 

5  The  time  is  long  past,  and  the  scene  is  afar, 
Yet,  when  my  head  rests  on  its  pillow, 

Will  memory  sometimes  rekindle  the  star 
That  blaz'd  on  the  breast  of  the  billow. 

6  In  life's  closing  hour,  when  the  trembling 

soul  flies, 
And  death  stills  the  heart's  last  emotion, 


SACRED  POETRY.  20^ 

O  then  may  the  seraph  of  mercy  arise, 
Like  a  star  on  eternity's  ocean. 

p.  M.  JAME\ 


148.    DEATH  LEADS  TO  IMMORTALITY. 


Death's  but  a  path  that  must  be  trod, 
If  man  would  ever  pass  to  God ; 
A  port  of  calms,  a  state  of  ease 
From  the  rough  rage  of  swelling  seas. 

As  men  who  long  in  prison  dwell, 
With  lamps  that  glimmer  round  the  cell, 
Whene'er  their  suff'ring  years  are  run, 
Spring  forth  to  greet  the  glitt'ring  sun, — 

Such  joy,  tho'  far  transcending  sense, 
Have  pious  souls  at  parting  hence. 
On  earth,  and  in  the  body  plac'd, 
A  few  and  evil  years  they  waste  : 

But,  when  their  chains  are  cast  aside., 
See  the  bright  scene  unfolding  wide, 
Clap  the  glad  wing,  and  tow'r  away, 
And  mingle  with  the  blaze  of  day. 

PARNELL. 


208  SACRED  POETRY. 


149-       IT  IS  GOOD  TO  BE  HERE. 


Methinks  it  is  good  to  be  here, 
If  thou  wilt  let  us  build — but  for  whom? 

Nor  Elias,  nor  Moses  appear, 
But  the  shadows  of  eve  that  encompasg  the 

gloom, 
The  abode  of  the  dead,  and  the  place  of 
the  tomb. 

Shall  we  build  to  ambition  ?  Ah !  no ; 
Affrighted  he  shrinketh  away ; 

For  see !  they  would  pin  him  below 
To  a  small  narrow  cave,  and  begirt  with 

cold  clay, 
To  the  meanest  of  reptiles  a  peer  and  a 
prey. 

To  beauty  ?  Ah  !  no ;  she  forgets 
The  charms  that  she  wielded  before : 

Nor  knows  the  foul  worm  that  he  frets 
The  skin  which,  but  yesterday,  fools  could 

adore, 
For  the  smoothness  it  held,  or  the  tint 
which  it  wore. 


SACRED  POETRY.  209 

Shall  we  build  to  the  purple  of  Pride, 
The  trappings  which  dizen  the  proud  ? 

Alas  !  they  are  all  laid  aside, 
And  here's  neither  dress  nor  adornment 

allow'd, 
But  the  long  winding-sheet  and  the  fringe 
of  the  shroud. 

To  riches  ?  Alas !  'tis  in  vain, 
Who  hid  in  their  turns  have  been  hid ; 

The  treasures  are  squander'd  again ; 
And  here  in  the  grave  are  all  metals  forbid, 
But  the  tinsel  that  shone  on  the  dark 
coffin  lid. 

To  the  pleasures  which  mirth  can  afford, 
The  revel,  the  laugh,  and  the  jeer? 

Ah  !  here  is  a  plentiful  hoard, 
But  the  guests  are  all  mute  as  their  pitiful 

cheer, 
And  none  but  the  worm  is  reveller  here. 

Shall  we  build  to  affection  and  love  ? 
Ah  !  no ;  they  have  wither'd  and  died, 

Or  fled  with  the  spirit  above — 
Friends,  brothers,  and  sisters  are  laid  side 

by  side, 
Yet  none  have  saluted,  and  none  have  re- 
plied. 


210  SACEED  POETEY. 

8  Unto  sorrow  ?  The  dead  cannot  grieve, 
Not  a  sob,  not  a  sigh  meets  mine  ear, 

Which  compassion  itself  could  relieve; 

Ah  !  sweetly  they  slumber,  nor  hope,  love, 

or  fear  ;  [one  here. 

Peace,  peace,  is  the  watchword,  the  only 

9  Unto  death,  to  whom  monarchs  must 
Ah  !  no  ;  for  his  empire  is  known,  [bow? 

And  hei-e  there  are  trophies  enow ; 
Beneath  the  cold  dead,  and  around  the 

dark  stone, 
Are  the  signs  of  a  sceptre  that  none  may 
disown. 

10  The  first  tabernacle  to  Hope  we  will  build, 
And  look  for  the  sleepers  around  us  to  rise ; 

The  second  to  Faith,  which  insures  it 

fuifill'd ; 
And  the  third  to  the  Lamb  of  the  great 

sacrifice, 
Who  bequeath'd  us  them  both  when  he 

rose  to  the  skies. 

HERBERT  KNOWLES. 


150.     THE  POOL  OF  BETHESDA. 

1    Aroukd  Bethesda's  healing  wave, 
Waiting  to  hear  the  rustling  wing 


SACRED  POETRY.  211 

Which  spoke  the  angel  nigh,  who  gave 
Its  virtues  to  that  holy  spring, — 
With  earnest,  fixed  solitude, 
Were  seen  th'  afflicted  multitude. 

2  Among  them  there  was  one,  whose  eye 
Had  often  seen  the  waters  stirr'd, 
Whose  heart  had  often  heaved  the  sigh, 
The  bitter  sigh  of  hope  deferr'd  ; 
Beholding,  while  he  sufier'd  on, 

The  healing  virtue  given — and  gone  •' 

3  No  power  had  he  ;  no  friendly  aid 
To  him  its  timely  succour  brought ; 
But,  while  his  coming  he  delay'd, 
Another  won  the  boon  he  sought ; — 
Until  the  Saviour's  love  was  shown, 
Which  heal'd  him  by  a  word  alone  ! 

4  Had  they  who  watch'd  and  waited  there 
Been  conscious  who  was  passing  by, 
WTith  what  unceasing,  anxious  care 
Would  they  have  sought  his  pitying  eye  ; 
And  craved,  with  fervency  of  soul, 

His  sovereign  power  to  make  them  whole. 

5  But  habit  and  tradition  sway'd 
Their  mind  to  trust  to  sense  alone ; 


212  SACRED  POETRY. 

They  only  sought  the  angel's  aid  ; 
"While  in  their  presence  stood,  unknown, 
A  greater,  mightier  far,  than  he, 
With  power  from  grief  and  pain  to  free. 

6  Bethesda's  pool  has  lost  its  pow'r, 
No  angel  by  his  glad  descent, 
Dispenses  that  diviner  dow'r 
Which  with  its  healing  waters  vyent : 
But  He,  whose  word  surpass'd  its  wave, 
Is  still  omnipotent  to  save. 

BARTON. 


151.    THE  HEAVENLY  COUNTRY. 

1  O  tell  me  no  more 

Of  this  world's  vain  store  ;       |_o'er. 

The  time  for  these  trifles  with  me  now  is 
A  country  I've  found, 
Where  true  joys  abound  : 

To  dwell  I'm  determined  on  that  happy 
ground. 

2  The  souls  that  believe, 
In  paradise  live ; 

And  me  in  that  number  will  Jesus  receive 


SACRED  POETRY.  213 

My  soul,  dont  delay, 
He  calls  thee  away,  [day* 

Rise,  follow  thy  Saviour,  and  bless  the  glad 

J  No  mortal  doth  know 

What  he  can  bestow,      [ter  him  go. 
What  light,  strength,  and  comfort  do  af- 
So  onward  I  move, 
And,  but  Christ  above, 
None  guesses  how  wondrous  the  journey 
will  prove. 

i  Great  spoils  I  shall  win, 

From  death,  hell,  and  sin.  [within. 
'Midst  outward  afflictions,  shall  feel  Christ 

Perhaps  for  his  name, 

Poor  dust  as  I  am,  [aim. 

Some  works  I  shall  finish  with  glad  loving 

►  I  still  (which  is  best,) 

Shall  in  his  dear  breast,  [rest. 

As   at   the   beginning,  find  pardon    and 
And  when  I'm  to  die, 
Receive  me,  I'll  cry, 
For  Jesus  has  lov'd  me  I  cannot  tell  why. 

5  But  this  I  do  find, 

We  two  are  so  join'd,  [behind. 

He'll    not  live  in  glory,    and    leave   me 
Lo  !  this  is  the  race, 


214  SACRED  POETRY. 

I'm  running  through  grace,       [face. 
Henceforth  till  admitted  to  see  my  Lord's 

7  And  now  I'm  in  care, 

My  neighbours  may  share 
Those  blessings  :  to  seek  them  will  none 
of  you  dare  ? 
In  bondage,  O  why, 
And  death  will  you  lie, 
"When  one  here  assures  you  free  grace  is 
so  nigh  ?  GAMBOLD. 


152.    ON  THE  DEATH  OP  AN  INFANT. 


In  heart  divided,  and  in  spirit  rent, 
Who  can  forbid  a  mother  to  lament  ? 
Death  !  thou  dread  looser  of  the  dearest  tie, 
Was  there  no  aged  and  no  sick  one  nigh  ? 
No  languid  vyetch,  who  long'd,  but  long'd 

in  vain, 
For  thy  cold  hand  to  cool  his  fiery  pain  ? 
And  was  the  only  victim  thou  eouldst  find, 
An  infant  on  its  mother's  arms  reclin'd  ? 
But  'tis  thy  way  to  pass  the  ripest  by, 
And  cause  the  flowers  and  buds  of  life  to  die ; 
Full  many  a  flow'r  is  scatter'd  by  the  breeze, 
And  many  a  blossom  shaken  from  the  trees, 


SACEED  POETRY.  215 

And  many  a  morning  beam  in  tempest  flies. 
And  many  a  dew-drop  shines  a  while  and 

dies: 
But  oft'ner  far  the  dream  that  fancy  weaves, 
Of  future  joy  and  happiness,  deceives. 
And  thou,  pale   mourner   o'er  an   infant's 

bier, 
Brighten  thy  cheek,  and  dry  the  trickling 

tear ; 
This  came,  though  veil'd  in  darkness,  from 

above, 
A  dispensation  of  eternal  love  ! 
He  who  perceiv'd  the  dangerous  control, 
The  heart-twin'd  spell  was  gaining  on  thy 

soul, 
Snatch'd  from  thine  arms  the   treacherous 

decoy, 
To  give  thee  brighter  hope  and  purer  joy. 
Oh  !  see  how  soon  the  flow'rs  of  life  decay, 
How  soon  terrestrial  pleasures  fade  away. 
This  star  of  comfort,  for  a  moment  giv'n, 
Just  rose  on  earth,  then  set  to  rise  in  heav'n. 
Yet  mourn  not,  as  of  hope  bereft,  its  doom, 
Nor  water  with  thy  tears  its  early  tomb  ; 
Redeem'd  by  God  from  sin,  releas'd  from 

pain, 
Its  life  were  punishment,  its  death  is  gain. 


216  SACRED  POETRY. 

Turn  back  thine  eye  along  the  path  of  life, 
View  thine  own  grief,  and  weariness,  and 

strife  ; 
And  say  if  that  which  tempts  thee  to  repine 
Be  not  a  happier  lot  by  far  than  thine. 
If  death  in  infancy  had  laid  thee  low, 
Thou  hadst  escap'd  from  pain,  and  sin,  and 

woe; 
The  years  thy  soul  the  path  of  sorrow  trod. 
Had  all  been  spent  in  converse  with  thy 

God; 
And  thou  hadst  shone  in  yonder  cloudless 

sphere, 
A  seraph  there,  and  not  a  pilgrim  here. 

0  !  it  is  sweet  to  die, — to  part  from  earth,— 
And  win  all  heav'n  for  things  of  little  worth. 
Then  sure  thou  wouldst  not,  though  thou 

couldst,  awake 
The  little  slumb'rer  for  its  mother's  sake. 
It  is  when  those  we  love  in  death  depart, 
That  earth  has  slightest  hold  upon  the  heart. 
Hath  not  bereavement  higher  wishes  taught, 
And  purified  from  earth  thine  earth-bora 

thought  ? 

1  know  it  hath.     Hope  then  appears  more 

dear, 
And  heaven's  bright  realms  shine  brightest 
through  a  tear. 


SACRED  POETRY.  217 

Though  it  be  hard  to  bid  thy  heart  divide, 
I  And  lay  the  gem  of  all  thy  love  aside, 
I  Faith   tells   thee,  and  it  tells  thee  not  in 

vain, 
,  That  thou  shalt  meet  thine  infant  yet  again, 
j  On  seraph  wings  the  new-born  spirit  flies, 
To  brighter  regions  and  serener  skies ; 
j  And,  ere  thou  art  aware,  the  day  may  be 
I  When  to  those  skies  thy  babe  shall  wel- 
come thee. 
I  While  yet  on  earth  thine  ever-circling  arms 
I  Held  it  securest  from  surrounding  harms, 
I  Yet  even  there  disease  could  aim  her  dart, 
jj  Chill  the  warm  cheek,  and  stop  the  flut- 

t'ring  heart ; 
K  And  many  a  fruitless  tear-drop  thou  hast 
paid, 
To  view  the  sickness  that  thou  couldst  not 

aid. 

;  No  ill  can  reach  it  now,  it  rests  above, 
Safe  in  the  bpsom  of  celestial  love  : 
Its  short  but  yet  tempestuous  way  is  o'er, 
And  tears  shall  trickle  down  its  cheek  no 

more. 
Then  far  be  grief ! — Faith  looks  beyond  the 

tomb, 
And  heav'n's  bright  portals  sparkle  through 
the  gloom. 


218  SACRED  POETRY. 

If  bitter  thoughts  and  tears  in  heav'n  could  be, 
It  is  thine  infant  that  should  weep  for  thee. 

EDMESTON. 


153.       PLEASURE  NOT  FOUND  IN 
THE  WORLD. 


In  search  of  enjoyment  I  wander'd  in  vain, 
With  a  void  in  my  bosom  that  nothing 
could  fill ; 
For  mirth's  gayest  smile  was  succeeded 
by  pain, 
And  the  sweet  cup  of  pleasure  prov'd 
bitterness  still. 
The  young  days  of  fancy  roll'd  rapidly  by, 
And  I  shrunk  with   dismay  from  the 
future's  dark  gloom, 
Where  the  elay-fetter'd  spirit  must  mourn 
till  it  die, 
And  man  has  no  rest  but  the  rest  of 
the  tomb. 

And  yet  I  have  revell'd  in  hope's  fairy 
dream, 
And  tasted  the  raptures  of  Love's  pur- 
est bliss  : 

Delusive  are  both,  though  alluring  they 
seem, 


SACRED  POETRY.  219 

Like  vapours  that  gleam  o'er  a  hidden 
abyss. 
The  proud  thirst  of  glory  was  mine  from 
my  birth,  [display, 

But  what  can  this  world  to  ambition 
Which  grasps  at  the  skies,  but  is  bounded 
by  earth — 
A  spirit  of  fire  in  a  prison  of  clay  ? 

I  And  now  I  have  heard  of  a  nobler  crown, 
A  kingdom  unfading,  a  glory  divine ; 
But  the  humble  alone  shall   inherit   the 
crown,  [be  mine? 

And  how  shall  that  kingdom  of  glory 
Let  my  strength  turn  to  weakness,   my 
honour  to  shame, 
The  reproach  of  the  cross  be  my  earth- 
ly reward ;  [name, 
All,  all  shall  be  welcome  for  one  blessed 
The  lowly  disciple  of  Jesus  the  Lord. 

DALE. 


154.    DEATH  OF  A  CHRISTIAN. 

1   Tiifou  art  gone  to  the  grave,  but  we  will 
not  deplore  thee, 
Tho'  sorrows  and  darkness  encompass  the 
tomb, 


220  SACRED  POETRY. 

Thy  Saviour  has  pass'd  through  its  portal 
before  thee, 
And  the  lamp  of  his  love  is  thy  guide 
through  the  gloom. 

2  Thou  art  gone  to  the  grave, — we  no  longer 

behold  thee, 
Nor  tread  the  rough  paths  of  the  world 

by  thy  side : 
But  the  wide  arms  of  mercy  are  spread  to 

enfold  thee,  [has  died. 

And  sinners  may  hope,  since  the  sinless 

3  Thou  art  gone  to  the  grave,  and  its  man- 

sion  forsaking,  [long ; 

Perhaps  thy  tried  spirit  in  fear  linger'd 

But  the  sunshine  of  heav'n  beam'd  bright 

on  thy  waking, 
And  the  sound  which  thou  heard'st  was 

the  seraphim's  song. 

4  Thou  art  gone  to  the  grave, — but  we  will 

not  deplore  thee, 
Whose  God  was  thy  ransom,  thy  guar- 
dian, and  guide : 
He  gave  thee,  and  took  thee,  and  he  will 
restore  thee, 
And  death  has  no  sting,  for  the  Saviour 
hath  died. 

BISHOP  HEBER. 


SACRED  POETRY.  221 


155.  LINES  ON  READING  THE  LIFE 
OF  HENRY  MARTYN. 

1  Oh  !  long  is  that  life  which  endeavours  to 

measure 

The  depth  of  devotion  the  bosom  in- 
spires, 
That,  warm'd  by  the  love  of  a  perishing 
world, 

To  publish  the  news  of  salvation  aspires. 

2  No  hardships  can  daunt,  no  dangers  alarm 

The  sen-ant  of  God  on  his  perilous  way ; 
He   knows   that   an  arm  Almighty  will 
shield  him 
From  the  wind's  piercing  blast  and  the 
sun's  scorching  ray. 

3  Though  the  bonds  of  affection  unite  him 

so  closely 

With  the  friends  who  to  him  are  the 
dearest  and  best, — 
Though  he  feel  for  his  country  with  ar- 
dent emotion, 

And  the  patriot's  spirit  beat  high  in  his 
breast  j 


222  SACRED  POETRY. 

4  Yet  these  all  he  leaves,  and  surrenders  fo. 

ever 
The  joys  that  his  country  and  friend 

can  afford ; 
Henceforward  he  looks  for  his  country  \i 

heav'n, 
And  finds  a  sure  friend  in  Christ  Jesu9 

his  Lord. 

5  And  such  wert  thou  then,  blessed  servant 

of  Jesus, 
When  death  froze  thy  life-springs  and 

wither'd  thy  bloom ; 
When  the  tongue  that  proclaim'd  once  tc 

poor  dying  sinners  [tomb, 

The  cross  of  a  Saviour,  was  laid  in  tlu 

6  No  friend  stood  beside  thee  to  soothe  thj 

last  moments, 
To  soften  thy  pangs',  or  to  close  thy  din 
eye; 
No  hand,  in  that  hour,  cared  to  smootl 
thy  sick  pillow, — 
Thy  couch  was  the  earth,  and  thy  cur- 
tain the  sky. 

7  No  stone  marks  the  spot  where  thine  ashei 

are  resting, — 
No  tear  has  e'er  hallow'd  thy  cold  loneh 
grave, — 


SACRED    POETRY.  223 

But  the  wild  warring  winds  whistle  round 
thy  bleak  dwelling, 
And  the  fierce  wint'ry  torrent  sweeps 
o'er't  with  its  wave. 

But  the  heavenly  host  sung  their  requiems 
o'er  thee,  [above ; 

And  bore  thee  on  high  to  the  mansions 
Where,  array'd  all  in  white,  and  resplen- 
dent in  glory, 
Thou  reap'st  the  reward  of  thy  zeal  and 
thy  love. 

And  Oh !  may  thy  friends,  as  the  deep  sigh 
escapes  them, 
While  they  think  that  their  hopes,  once 
so  bright,  are  all  fled, 
B  emember  with  joy  thy  zeal — thy  devotion, 
And  press  on  with  ardour  where  Mar- 
tyn  has  led. 

T.  M. 


56.  THE  SABBATH. 


Lord  of  the  Sabbath,  hear  our  vowi, 
On  this  thy  day,  in  this  thine  house; 
And  own  as  grateful  sacrifice, 
,T,he  songs  which  from  the  desert  rise. 


224  SACRED  POETRY. 

2  Thine  earthly  Sabbaths,  Lord,  we  love ; 
But  there's  a  nobler  rest  above ; 

To  that  our  lab'ring  souls  aspire,  ^ 
With  ardent  hope  and  strong  desire, 

3  No  more  fatigue,  no  more  distress, 

Nor  sin,  nor  death,  shall  reach  the  place  j 
No  tears  shall  mingle  with  the  songs 
That  warble  from  immortal  tongues. 

4  No  rude  alarms  of  raging  foes — 

No  cares  to  break  the  long  repose — 
No  midnight  shade,  no  clouded  sun — 
But  sacred,  high,  eternal  noon ; 

5  O  long-expected  day,  begin ; 

Dawn  on  these  realms  of  woe  and  sin ; 
Fain  would  we  leave  this  weary  road, 
And  sleep  in  death  to  rest  with  God. 

DODDRIDGE. 


157-      RACHEL  WEEPING  FOR  HER 
CHILDREN. 


1  O  veep  not  o'er  thy  children's  tomb, 
O  Rachel,  weep  not  so  ; 
The  bud  is  cropt  by  martyrdom, 
The  flow'r  in  heav'n  shall  blow. 


SACRED  POETRY.  225 

2  Firstlings  of  faith,  the  murd'rer's  knife 

Has  miss'd  its  deadly  aim ; 
The  God  for  whom  they  give  their  life, 
For  them  to  suffer  came. 

3  Though  evil  were  their  days  and  few, 

Baptiz'd  in  blood  and  pain : 
He  knows  them  whom  they  never  knew, 
And  they  shall  live  again. 

I  O  weep  not  o'er  thy  children's  tomb, 
O  Rachel,  weep  not  so ; 
The  bud  is  cropt  by  martyrdom, 
The  flow'r  in  heav'n  shall  blow. 

BISHOP  HEBEB. 


158.  NATIVITY. 

1  Fob  thou  wert  bora  of  woman !  thou  didst 
come, 
O  Holiest!  to  this  world  of  sin  and  gloom, 
Not  in  thy  dread  omnipotent  array ; 
And  not  by  thunders  strew'd 
Was  thy  tempestuous  road  ; 
Nor  indignation  burnt  before  thee  on  thy 

way  ; 
But  thee,  a  soft  and  naked  child, 
Thy  mother,  undefil'd, 
P 


226  SACRED  POETRY. 

In  the  rude  manger  laid  to  rest 
From  off  her  virgin  breast. 

2  The  heav'ns  were  not  commanded  to  pre- 

pare 
A  gorgeous  canopy  of  golden  air ; 
Nor  stoop'd  their  lamps  th'  enthroned  fires 
on  high ; 
A  single  silent  star 
Came  wand'ring  from  afar, 
Gliding,  uncheck'd  and  calm,  along  the 

liquid  sky : 
The  Eastern  Sages  leading  on, 
As  at  a  kingly  throne, 
To  lay  their  gold  and  odours  sweet 
Before  thy  infant  feet. 

3  The  earth  and  ocean  were  not  hush'd  to 

hear 

Bright  harmony  from  every  starry  sphere: 

Nor  at  thy  presence  brake  the  voice  of  song 
From  all  the  cherub  choirs, 
And  seraph's  burning  lyres, 

Poured  thro'  the  host  of  heav'n  the  charm- 
ed clouds  along, 

One  angel  troop  the  strain  began, 

Of  all  the  race  of  man, 

By  simple  shepherds  heard  alone, 

That  Boft  Hosanna's  tone. 


SACRED  POETRY.  227 

And  when  thou  didst  depart,  no  car  of 

flame 
To  bear  thee  hence  in  Iambient  radiance 

came  : 
Nor  visible  angels  mourn'd  with  drooping 

plumes  : 
Nor  didst  thou  mount  on  high 
From  fatal  Calvary 
With  all  thine  own  redeem'd  out-bursting 

from  their  tombs. 
For  thou  didst  bear  away  from  earth 
But  one  of  human  birth, 
The  dying  felon  by  thy  side,  to  be 
In  Paradise  with  thee. 

Nor  o'er  thy  cross  the  clouds  of  vengeance 

break ; 
A  little  while  the  conscious  earth  did  shake 
At  that  foul  deed  by  her  fierce  childien 
done, 
A  few  dim  hours  of  day 
The  world  in  darkness  lay. 
Then  bask'd  in  bright  repose  beneath  the 

cloudless  sun : 
While  thou  didst  sleep  beneath  the  tomb, 
Consenting  to  thy  doom, 
Ere  yet  the  white -rob'd  Angel  shone 
Upon  the  sealed  stone. 


228  SACRED  POETRY. 

6  And  when  thou  didst  arise,  thou  didst  not 
stand 
With  devastation  in  thy  red  right  hand, 
Plaguing  the  guilty  city's  murd'rous  crew ; 
But  thou  didst  haste  to  meet 
Thy  mother's  coming  feet, 
And  bear  the  words  of  peace  unto  the 

faithful  few : 
Then  calmly,  slowly  didst  thou  rise 
Into  thy  native  skies  : 
Thy  human  form  dissolv'd  on  high 
In  its  own  radiancy. 

MILMAN. 


159.        THE  THREE  MOUNTS. 


1  When  on  Sinai's  top  I  see 
God  descend  in  majesty, 
To  proclaim  his  holy  law, 
All  my  spirit  sinks  with  awe. 

2  When  in  ecstasy  sublime, 
Tabor's  glorious  height  I  climb, 
In  the  too  transporting  light, 
Darkness  rushes  o'^r  my  sight, 

3  When  on  Calvary  I  rest, 
God  in  flesh  made  manifest 


SACRED  POETRY.  229 

Shines  in  my  Redeemer's  face, 
Full  of  beauty,  truth,  and  grace. 

Here  I  would  for  ever  stay, 
Weep  and  gaze  my  soul  away: 
Thou  art  heav'n  on  earth  to  me, 
Lovely,  mournful  Calvary. 

MONTGOMERY- 


160.  PRAISE. 

Harps  of  eternity !  begin  the  song ; 
Redeem'd,  and  angel  harps  !  begin  to  God, 
Begin  the  anthem  ever  sweet  and  new, 
While  I  extol  him  holy,  just,  and  good. 
Life,  beauty,  light,  intelligence,  and  love  ! 
Eternal,  uncreated,  infinite  ! 
Unsearchable  Jehovah  !   God  of  truth  ! 
Maker,  upholder,  governor  of  all : 
Thyself  unmade,  ungovern'd,  unupheld. 
Mysterious  more,  the  more  display'd,  where 

still  _ 
Upon  thy  glorious  throne  thou  sitt'st  alone ; 
Hast  sat  alune,  and  shall  for  ever  sit 
Alone  ;  invisible,  immortal  One  ! 
Behind  essential  brightness  unbeheld. 
Incomprehensible  !     what     weight     shall 

weigh — 


230  SACRED  POETRY. 

What  measure  measure  Thee  ?  what  know 

we  more 
Of  thee,   what  need  to  know,  than  thou 

hast  taught, 
And  bidd'st  us  still  repeat,  at  morn  and  even, 
God  !  everlasting  Father !  holy  One  ! 
Our  God,  our  Father,  our  eternal  all ! 
Source  whence  we  came,  and  whither  we 

return ; 
Who  made    the   heaven,    who    made   the 

flowery  land. 
Thy  works  all  praise  thee  ;  all  thy  angels 

praise  : 
Thy  saints  adore,  and  on  thy  altars  bum 
The  fragrant  incense  of  perpetual  love. 
They  praise  thee  now  :  their  hearts,  their 

voices  praise, 
And  swell  the  rapture  of  the  glorious  song. 
Harp  lift  thy  voice  on  high, — shout,  angels, 

shout ! 
And  loudest,  ye  redeem'd !  glory  to  God, 
And  to  the  Lamb,  who  bought  us  with  his 

blood, 
Prom  every  kindred,  nation,  people,  tongue; 
And  washed,  and  sanctified,  and  saved  our 

souls  ; 
And  gave  us  robes  of  linen  pure,  and  crowns 
Of  life,  and  made  us  kings  and  priests  to 

God. 


SACRED  POETRY.  231 

Shout  back  to  ancient  Time  !  sing  loud,  and 

wave 
Your  palms  of  triumph  !  sing,  where  is  thy 

sting, 
O  death  ?  where  is  thy  victory,  O  grave  ? 
Thanks   be   to    God,    eternal  thanks,  who 

gave 
Us  victory  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord. 
Harp,  lift  thy  voice  on  high  !  shout,  angels, 

shout ! 
And  loudest,  ye  redeem'd  !  glory  to  God, 
And  to  the  Lamb,  all  glory,  and  all  praise : 
All  glory,  and  all  praise,  at  morn  and  even, 
That  come  and  go  eternally  ;  and  find 
Us  happy  still,  and  thee  for  ever  blest. 
Glory  to  God,  and  to  the  Lamb.     Amen. 
For  ever,  and  for  evermore.     Amen. 

POLIOK. 


161.    THE  PRESENCE  OF  CHRIST 
IN  DYING. 


Jesus,  I  cast  my  soul  on  thee, 
Mighty  and  merciful  to  save ; 
Thou  wilt  to  death  go  down  with  me, 
And  gently  lay  me  in  the  grave. 


232  SACRED  POETRY. 

This  body  there  shall  rest  in  hope, 
This  body  which  the  worms  destroy ; 
For  surely  thou  wilt  bring  me  up, 
To  glorious  life,  and  endless  joy. 

C.  WESLEY. 


162.  CONVERSATION. 

It  happen'd  on  a  solemn  eventioe, 
Soon  after  he  that  was  our  Surety  died, 
Two  bosom  friends,  each  pensively  inelin'd, 
The  scene  of  all  those  sorrows  left  behind ; 
Sought  their  own  village,  busied  as  they  went 
In  musings  worthy  of  the  great  event ; 
They  spake  of  him  they  lov'd,  of  him  whose 

life, 
Though  blameless,  had  incurr'd  perpetual 

strife, 
Whose  deeds  had  left,  in  spite  of  hostile  arts, 
A  deep  memorial  graven  on  their  hearts. 
The  recollection,  like  a  vein  of  ore, 
The  farther  trac'd  enrich'd  them  still  the 

more; 
They  thought  him,  and  they  justly  thought 

him,  one 
Sent  to  do  more  than  he  appear'd  t'  have 

done : 
T'  exalt  a  people,  and  to  place  them  high 
Above  all  else,  and  wonder'd  he  should  die. 


SACRED  POETRY.  233 

Ere  yet  they  brought  their  journey  to  an 

end, 
A  stranger  join'd  them,  courteous  as  a  friend, 
And  ask'd  them  with  a  kind  engaging  air, 
What   their   affliction   was,    and   begg'd    a 

share. 
Inform'd,  he  gather'd  up  the  broken  thread, 
And,  truth  and  wisdom  gracing  all  he  said, 
Explain'd,  illustrated,  and  search'd  so  well, 
The  tender  theme  on  which  they  chose  to 

dwell, 
That  reaching  home,   The  night,  they  said, 

is  near, 
We  must  not  now  be  parted,  sojourn  here — 
The  new  acquaintance  soon  became  a  guest, 
And,  made  so  welcome  at  their  simple  feast, 
He  bless'd  the  bread,  but  vanish'd  at  the 

word, 
And  left  them  both  exclaiming,  'Twas  the 

Lord ! 
Did  not  our  hearts  feel  all  he  deign'd  to  say? 
Did  they  not  burn  within  us  by  the  way? 
Now  theirs  was  converse,  such  as  it  behoves 
Man  to  maintain,  and  such  as  God  approves  : 
Their  views  indeed  were  indistinct  and  dim, 
But  yet  successful,  being  aim'd  at  him. 
Christ  and  his  character  their  only  scope, 
Their  object,  and  their  subject,  and  theiy 

hope. 


234  SACRED  POETRY. 

They  felt  what  it  became  them  much  to  feel, 
And,  wanting  him  to  loose  the  sacred  seal, 
Found  him  as  prompt  as  their  desire  was 

true, 
To  spread  the  new-born   glories   in  their 

view. 

COWPER. 


163.       THE  WAY  OF  ACCESS* 

1  One  glance  of  thine,  eternal  Lord, 

Pierces  all  nature  through  : 
Nor  heav'n,  nor  earth,  nor  hell  afford 
A  shelter  from  thy  view. 

2  The  mighty  whole,  each  smaller  part, 

At  once  before  thee  lies, 
And  ev'ry  thought  of  ev'ry  heart 
Is  open  to  thine  eyes. 

3  Tho'  greatly  from  myself  conceal'd, 

Thou  seest  my  inward  frame ; 
To  thee  I  always  stand  reveal'd 
Exactly  as  I  am. 

4  Since,  therefore,  I  can  hardly  bear 

What  in  myself  I  see, 
How  vile  and  black  must  I  appear, 
Most  holy  God,  to  thee  ! 


SACRED  POETRY.  235 

>  But,  since  my  Saviour  stands  between, 
In  garments  dy'd  in  blood, 
'Tis  he,  the  righteous  one,  is  seen 
When  I  approach  to  God. 

3  Thus  though  a  sinner  I  am  safe — 

He  pleads  before  the  throne 

His  life  and  death  in  my  behalf, 

And  calls  my  sins  his  own. 

7  What  wond'rous   love,    what  matchless 
grace, 
In  this  appointment  shine  ! 
My  breaches  of  the  law  are  his, 
And  his  obedience  mine  ! 

NEWTON. 


164.  CHRIST  OUR  RIGHTEOUSNESS. 

1  Jesus,  thy  blood  and  righteousness 
My  beauty  are,  my  glorious  dress  : 
'Midst  flaming  worlds,  in  these  array'd, 
With  joy  shall  I  lift  up  my  head. 

2  When  from  the  dust  of  death  I  rise, 
To  take  my  mansion  in  the  skies, 
Ev'n  then  shall  this  be  all  my  plea — 

;    "  Jesus  hath  liv'd,  hath  died  for  me  I" 

B  Bold  shall  I  stand  in  that  great  day, 
i    For  "•'■ "  aught  to  my  charge  shall  lay  ? 


236  SACRED  POETRY. 

Fully  through  thee  absolv'd  I  am 

From  sin  and  fear,  from  guilt  and  shame. 

4  Thus  Abraham,  the  friend  of  God, 
Thus  all  the  armies  bought  with  blood, 
Saviour  of  sinners  thee  proclaim, 
Sinners  of  whom  the  chief  I  am. 

5  This  spotless  robe  the  same  appears 
When  ruin'd  nature  sinks  in  years ; 
No  age  can  change  its  glorious  hue, 
The  robe  of  Christ  is  ever  new. 

6  And  when  the  dead  shall  hear  thy  voice, 
Thy  banished  children  shall  rejoice; 
Their  beauty  this,  their  glorious  dress, 
Jesus,  the  Lord  our  righteousness  ! 

C.  WESLEY. 


165.  HOPE  IN  THE  RESURRECTION. 

1  Through   sorrow's   night,   and  danger's 

Amid  the  deepening  gloom,  [path, 

We  soldiers  of  an  injured  king 
Are  marching  to  the  tomb. 

2  There,  when  the  turmoil  is  no  more, 

And  all  our  povv'rs  decay, 

Our  cold  remains  in  solitude 

Shall  sleep  the  years  away. 


SACRED  POETRY.  237 

3  Our  labours  done,  securely  laid 

In  this  our  last  retreat, 
Unheeded  o'er  our  silent  dust 
The  storms  of  life  shall  beat. 

4  Yet  not  thus  lifeless,  thus  inane, 

The  vital  spark  shall  lie, 
For  o'er  life's  wreck  that  spark  shall  rise, 
To  seek  its  kindred  sky. 

5  These  ashes  too,  this  little  dust, 

Our  Father's  care  shall  keep, 
Till  the  last  angel  rise  and  break 
The  long  and  dreary  sleep. 

6  Then  love's  soft  dew  o'er  every  eye 

Shall  shed  its  mildest  rays, 
And  the  long  silent  dust  shall  burst 
With  shouts  of  endless  praise. 

H.  K.  WHITE, 


166.     AN  EARTHLY  HOPE  AND  A 
SAVING  FAITH. 

1  The  wing  of  time  has  brush'd  away 

The  hopes  that  once    were  fair  and 
bright ; 
Sweet  flow'rs  that  lasted  scarce  a  day, 
Clos'd  ere  the  sun  had  set  in  night. 


238  SACRED  POETRY. 

2  Hope  was  the  life-breath  of  my  heart, 

But  ah  !  her  magic  charms  are  fled  : 
Take  back  thy  promises — we  part, 

Thy  rosy  wreaths  are  wither'd — dead. 

3  I  thought  the  rapid  hours  too  few, 

For  fancy  woke  such  happy  dreams, 
As.  turn'd  to  rapture  all  she  knew 
Of  life,  with  its  uncertain  schemes. 

4  But  O  my  heart — truth  would  not  seal 

The  flatt'ries  of  life's  early  day ; 
And  sanguine  hope  and  youthful  zeal, 
And  promis'd  joys  have  flown  away. 

5  Yet  though  my  earthly  hopes  are  dead, 

And  storms  upon  my  pathway  rise  ; 

Though  peace  has  long  this  bQsom  fled, 

Faith  points  a  way  to  yonder  skies. 

6  I  hope — I  fear — oh  !  for  a  guide  ! 

My  faith  is  weak,  the  storm  is  keen ! 
Be  thou  my  refuge — Jesus  hide — 
Again  I  live,  his  light  is  seen  ! 

7  Sorrow  shall  cease  amongst  the  blest, 

And  pain,  and  sin,  and  torturing  care; 
Oh,  Saviour,  strengthen  in  my  breast, 
Desires  thyself  hast  planted  there  i 

8  And  when  my  soul,  with  parting  sigh, 

Shall  wing  its  way  to  shores  unknown ; 


SACRED  POETRY.  239 

Safe  shall  I  be,  if  thou  art  nigh, 
If  thou  wilt  then  thy  creature  own  ! 

ANON. 


L67. 


THUNDER. 


When  in  dark  and  dreadful  gloom, 
Clouds  on  clouds  portentous  spread, 
Black  as  if  the  day  of  doom 
Hung  o'er  nature's  shrinking  head  : 
When  the  lightning  breaks  from  high, 
God  is  coming — God  is  nigh  ! 
When  we  hear  his  chariot  wheels, 
As  the  mighty  thunder  rolls  ; 
Nature  startles,  nature  reels,     , 
From  the  centre  to  the  poles  : 
Then  the  ocean,  earth,  and  sky, 
Tremble  as  he  passes  by  ! 
Darkness,  wild  with  horror,  forms 
His  mysterious  hiding-place : 
Should  he  from  his  ark  of  storms 
Rend  the  veil  and  show  his  face, 
At  the  judgment  of  his  eye, 
All  the  universe  would  die. 
God  of  vengeance  !  from  above, 
While  thine  awful  bolts  are  hurl'd, 
O  remember  thou  art  love  ! 
Spare,  O  spare  a  guilty  world  ! 


240  SACRED  POETRY. 

Stay  thy  flaming  wrath  awhile, 
-Let  the  bow  of  promise  smile ! 


MONTGOMERY. 


168. 


THE  LAST  DAY. 


Even  thus  amid  thy  pride  and  luxury, 
Oh  Earth  !  shall  this  last  coming  burst 
on  thee, 
That  secret  coming  of  the  Son  of  Man  ; 
When    all    the    cherub-throning    clouds 

shall  shine, 
Irradiate  with  his  bright  advancing  sign  ; 
When   that    great    Husbandman  shall 
wave  his  fan, 
Sweeping,    like   chaff,    thy   wealth    and 

pomp  away, 
Still  to  the  noontide  of  that  nightless  day, 
Shalt  thou  thy  wonted  dissolute  course 
maintain  ; 
Along  the  busy  mart  and  crowded  street, 
The  buyer  and  the  seller  still  shall  meet, 
And  marriage  feasts  begin  their  jocund 
6train, 
Still  to  the  pouring  out  the  cup  of  woe  ; 
Till  earth,  a  drunkard,  reeling  to  and  fro, 


SACRED  POETRY.  241 

And  mountains  molten  by  his  burning  feet, 
And  heav'n  his  presence  own,  all  red  with 
furnace  heat. 

2  Oh  !  who  shall  then  survive  ? 
Oh  !  who  shall  stand  and  live  ? 

When  all  that  hath  been  is  no  more  ! 
When  from  the  round  earth  hung  in  air, 
With  all  its  constellations  fair, 
In  the  sky's  azure  canopy ; 
When  for  the  breathing  earth  and  spark- 

Jmg  sea, 
Is  but  a  fiery  deluge  without  shore, 
Heaving  along  th'  abyss  profound  and  dark, 
A  fiery  deluge,  and  without  an  ark. 

3  Lord  of  all  power,  when  thou  art  there 

alone, 
On  thy  eternal  fiery-wheeled  throne, 
That  in  its  high  meridian  noon 
Needs  not  the  perished  sun  nor  moon  ; 
When  thou  art  there  in  thy  presiding  state, 
Wide  scepter'd  monarch  o'er  the  realm 

of  doom : 
When  from  the  sea-depths,  from  earth's 
darkest  womb, 
The  dead  of  all  the  ages  round  thee  wait ; 
And  when  the  tribes  of  wickedness  are 
strewn 


242  SACRED  POETRY. 

Like  forest  leaves  in  the  autumn   of 

thine  ire  : 
Faithful  and  true  !    thou  still  shalt  save 

thine  own ! 
The  saints  shall  dwell  with  the  unharm- 

ing  fire  ; 
Each  white  robe  spotless,  blooming  every 

palm. 
Even  safe  as  we,  by  this  still  Fountain's 

side, 
So   shall  the   Church,  thy  bright  and 

mystic  bride, 
Sit  on  the  stormy  gulf  a  halcycon  bird 

of  calm. 
Yes,  'mid  yon  angry  and  destroying  signs, 
O'er  us  the  rainbow  of  thy  mercy  shines  ! 
We  hail,  we  bless  the  covenant  of  its 

beam, 
Almighty  to  avenge,  almightiest   to  re- 
deem. MILMAN. 


169-  THUNDER  STORM. 


1  It  thunders !  sons  of  dust,  in  rev'rence 
bow ! 
Ancient  of  days  !  thou  speakest  from 
above  I 


SACRED  POETRY.  243 

Thy  right  hand  wields  the  bolt  of  terror 
now ; 
That  hand  which  scatters  Peace,  and 
Joy,  and  Love. 
Almighty !  trembling  like  a  timid  child, 
I    hear    thy    awful     voice — alarm'd — 
afraid — 
I  see  the  Hashes  of  thy  lightning  wild, 
And  in  the  very  grave  would  hide  my 
head. 

Lord!  what  is  man?  up  to  the  sun  he 
flies — 
Or  feebly  wanders  through  earth's  vale 
of  dust : 
There   is   he   lost  'midst   heaven's    high 
mysteries, 
And  here  in  error  and  in  darkness  lost : 
Beneath  the  storm-clouds,  on  life's  rag- 
ing sea, 
Like  a  poor  sailor — by  the  tempest  tost 
In  a  frail  bark — the  sport  of  destiny 
He   sleeps — and   dashes  on  the  rocky 
coast. 

Thou  breath  est ;  and  th'  obedient  storm 

is  still  : 
Thou  speakest ;  silent  the  submissive 

wave  : 
Man's  shatter'd  ships  the  rushing  waters 

fill 


244  SACRED  POETRY. 


And  the  hush'd  billows  roll  across  his 
grave. 
Sourceless  and    endless    God !  compar'd 
with  Thee, 
Life  is  a  shadowy  momentary  dream  ; 
And   Time,  when  view'd  through    Thy 
eternity, 
Less  than  the  mote  of  morning's  golden 
beam. 

RUSSIAN  POETRY. 


170.  GOD  IS  LOVE. 

1  'Tis  sweet  when  cloudless  suns  arise, 

As  through  the  vale  we  move  ; 
But,  oh,  more  sweet  to  recognise, 
Through  dreary  nights  and  starless  skies, 

The  smiling  face  of  Love ! 

2  I  hail  the  breeze  that,  soft  and  clear, 

Wafts  influence  from  above  ; 
But  chief  the  storm  delighted  hear, 
While  breathes  o'er  faith's  attentive  ear, 

The  whisp'ring  voice  of  Love  ! 

3  When  health  invigorates  the  frame, 

Let  joy  the  bliss  improve  ; 
But  tort'ring  pain  and  fever's  flame, 
With  teaching  pow'r  alike  proclaim 
e  tender  hand  of  Love  1 


SACRED  POETRY.  245 

Thou  canst  not  weep,  frail  child  of  clay, 

Such  blessings  taught  to  prove  ; 
Each  cloud,  that  dims  thy  upward  way, 
Shall  more  endear  the  glorious  day 
That  gilds  the  land  of  Love  ! 

E.  M. 


171. 


MERCY. 


A  debtor  to  mercy  alone, 

Of  covenant  mercy  I  sing ; 
Nor  fear,  with  thy  righteousness  on, 

My  person  and  off 'rings  to  bring. 
The  terrors  of  law,  and  of  God, 

With  me  can  have  nothing  to  do ; 
My  Saviour's  obedience  and  blood 

Hide  all  my  transgressions  from  view. 

The  work  which  his  goodness  began, 

The  arm  of  his  strength  will  complete 
His  promise  is  yea  and  amen, 

And  never  was  forfeited  yet ; 
Things  future,  nor  things  that  are  now, 

Not  all  things  below  nor  above, 
Can  make  him  his  purpose  forego, 

Or  sever  my  soul  from  his  love. 


246 


SACRED  POETRY. 


3  My  name  from  the  palms  of  his  hands 

Eternity  will  not  erase  ; 
Imprest  on  his  heart  it  remains, 

In  marks  of  indelible  grace  ; 
Yes,  I  to  the  end  shall  endure, 

As  sure  as  the  earnest  is  given  ; 
More  happy,  but  not  more  secure, 

The  glorified  spirits  in  heaven. 


172.     SIMPLICITY  OF  THE  GOSPEL. 


O  how  unlike  the  complex  works  of  man, 
Heaven's  easy,  artless,  unencumber'd  plan  ! 
No  meretricious  graces  to  beguile, 
No  clust'ring  ornaments  to  clog  the  pile  : 
From  ostentation  as  from  weakness  free, 
It  stands  like  the  cerulean  arch  we  see, 
Majestic  in  its  own  simplicity. 
Inscrib'd  above  the  portal,  from  afar 
Conspicuous,  as  the  brightness  of  a  star, 
Legible  only  by  the  light  they  give, 
Stand   the   soul-quick'ning  words — Believ* 
and  Live ! 

COWPER 


S\CRED  POETRY.  24*7 


173.  THE  GRAVE. 


1  There  is  a  calm  for  those  who  weep ; 
A  rest  for  weary  pilgrims  found : 
They  softly  lie  and  sweetly  sleep, 

Low  in  the  ground. 

2  The  storm  that  wrecks  the  winter  sky, 
No  more  disturbs  their  deep  repose, 
Than  summer  evening's  latest  sigh 

That  shuts  the  rose. 

3  I  long  to  lay  this  painful  head, 
And  aching  heart,  beneath  the  soil ; 
To  slumber  in  that  dreamless  bed 

From  all  my  toil. 

4  The  grave,  that  never  spoke  before. 
Hath  found  at  length  a  tongue  to  chide 
O  listen  !  1  will  speak  no  more  ! — 

Be  silent,  pride  ! 

5  Art  thou  a  mourner?  hast  thou  known 
The  joy  of  innocent  delights, 
Endearing  days  for  ever  flown 

And  tranquil  nights  ? 


248 


SACRED  POETRY. 


6  O  live !  and  deeply  cherish  still 
The  sweet  remembrance  of  the  past ; 
Rely  on  Heav'n's  unchanging  will 

For  peace  at  last. 

7  Tho'  long  of  winds  and  waves  the  sport, 
Condemn'd  in  wretchedness  to  roam  ; 
Live  !  thou  shalt  reach  a  shelt'ring  port, 

A  quiet  home  ! 

8  Seek  the  true  treasure,  seldom  found, 
Of  pow'r  the  fiercest  griefs  to  calm, 
And  soothe  the  bosom's  deepest  wound 

With  heav'nly  balm. 

9  "Whate'er  thy  lot — where'er  thou  be — 
Confess  thy  folly — kiss  the  rod  ; 
And  in  thy  chast'ning  sorrows  see 

The  hand  of  God. 

10  A  bruised  reed  he  will  not  break, 
Afflictions  all  his  children  feel ; 

He  wounds  them  for  his  mercy's  sake, 
He  wounds  to  heal ! 

]  1   Humbled  beneath  his  mighty  hand, 
Prostrate,  his  providence  adore  : 
:Tis  done  !  arise  !  He  bids  thee  stand, 
To  fall  no  more. 


SACRED  POETRY.  249 

12  Now,  trav'ller  in  the  vale  of  tears  ! 
To  realms  of  everlasting  light, 

Thro'  Time's  dark  wilderness  of  years, 
Pursue  thy  flight. 

13  There  is  a  calm  for  those  who  weep, 
A  rest  for  weary  pilgrims  found ; 
And  while  the  mould'ring  ashes  sleep 

Low  in  the  ground, 

14  The  soul,  of  origin  divine, 

God's  glorious  image  freed  from  clay, 

In  heav'n's  eternal  sphere  shall  shine 

A  star  of  day  ! 

15  The  sun  is  but  a  spark  of  fire, 
A  transient  meteor  in  the  sky ; 
The  soul,  immortal  as  its  Sire, 

Shall  never  die  ! 

MONTGOMERY, 


174.    Christ's  intercession. 

1  Thou,  who  didst  for  Peter's  faith 
Kindly  condescend  to  pray, 
Thou,  whose  loving-kindness  hath 
Kept  me  to  the  present  day, 
Kind  Conductor, 
Still  direct  my  devious  way  ! 


250  SACRED  POETRY. 

2  When  a  tempting  world  in  view 

Gains  upon  my  yielding  heart, 
When  its  pleasures  I  pursue, 

Then  one  look  of  pity  dart, 
Teach  me  pleasures 
Which  the  world  can  ne'er  impart. 

3  When  I  sit  beneath  thy  word, 

At  thy  table  cold  and  dead, 
When  I  cannot  see  my  Lord, 
All  my  little  day-light  fled, 
;  •  Sun  of  Glory, 
Beam  again  around  my  head. 

4<  When  thy  statutes  I  forsake, 
When  my  graces  dimly  shine, 
When  the  covenant  I  break, 
Jesus,  then  remember  thine  ! 
Check  my  wand'rings 
By  a  look  of  love  divine. 

5  Then  if  heav'nly  dews  distil, 

If  my  hopes  are  bright  and  clear, 
While  I  sit  on  Zion's  hill, 

Temper  joy  with  holy  fear ; 
Keep  me  watchful, 
Safe  alone  when  thou  art  near. 

6  When  afflictions  cloud  my  sky, 

When  the  tide  of  sorrow  flows, 


SACRED  POETRY.  251 

When  thy  rod  is  lifted  high, 
Let  me  on  thy  love  repose  : 
Stay  thy  rough  wind, 
When  the  chilling  eastern  blows. 


PART  II. 

1  When  the  vale  of  death  appears, 

(Faint  and  cold  this  mortal  clay,) 
Kind  Forerunner,  soothe  my  fears, 

Light  me  through  the  darksome  way : 
Break  the  shadows, 
Usher  in  eternal  day. 

2  Starting  from  this  dying  state, 

Upward  bid  my  soul  aspire : 
Open  thou  the  crystal  gate, 

To  thy  praise  attune  my  lyre  • 
Dwell  for  ever, 
Dwell  on  each  immortal  wire. 

3  From  the  sparkling  turrets  there, 

Oft  I'll  trace  my  pilgrim  way, 
Often  bless  thy  guardian  care, 

Fire  by  night,  and  cloud  by  day  j 
While  my  triumphs 
At  my  Leader's  feet  I  lay. 

4  And  when  mighty  trumpets  blown, 

Shall  the  judgment  dawn  proclaim,, 


252  SACRED  POETRY. 

From  the  central  burning  throne, 
'Mid  creation's  final  flame, 
With  the  ransom'd, 
Judge  and  Saviour,  own  my  name  ! 

MISS  JANE  TAYLOR. 


175.     RENOUNCING  THE  WORLD. 


1  Come,  my  fond  fluttering  heart, 

Come,  struggle  to  be  free, 
Thou  and  the  world  must  part, 

However  hard  it  be ; 
My  trembling  spirit  owns  it  just, 
But  cleaves  yet  closer  to  the  dust. 

2  Ye  tempting  sweets  forbear, 

Ye  dearest  idols  fall ; 
My  love  ye  must  not  share, 

Jesus  shall  have  it  all : 
'Tis  bitter  pain,  'tis  cruel  smart, 
But  ah  !  thou  must  consent,  my  heart ! 

3  Ye  fair  enchanting  throng  ! 

Ye  golden  dreams,  farewell ! 
Earth  has  prevail'd  too  long, 

And  now  I  break  the  spell : 
Ye  cherish'd  joys  of  early  years — 
Jesus,  forgive  these  parting  tears, 


SACRED  POETRY.  253 

t  But  must  I  part  with  all  ? 

My  heart  still  fondly  pleads ; 
Yes — Dagon's  self  must  fall. 

It  beats,  it  throbs,  it  bleeds. 
Is  there  no  balm  in  Gilead  found, 
To  soothe  and  heal  the  smarting  wound  ? 

5  O  yes,  there  is  a  balm, 

A  kind  physician  there, 
My  fever'd  mind  to  calm, 

To  bid  me  not  despair : 
Aid  me,  dear  Saviour,  set  me  free, 
And  I  will  all  resign  to  thee. 

3  O  may  I  feel  thy  worth, 

And  let  no  idol  dare, 
No  vanity  of  earth, 

With  thee,  my  Lord,  compare  ! 
Now  bid  all  worldly  joys  depart, 
And  reign  supremely  in  my  heart ! 

MISS  JANE  TAYLOR 


L76.  FOR  WE  WHO  HAVE  BELIEVED, 
DO  ENTER  INTO  REST. 


Delusive  world,  farewell ! 

By  grief  and  sin  distress'd, 
On  one  delightful  thought  I  dwell, 

That  thou  art  not  my  rest  ! 


254  SACRED  POETRY. 

2  Once  thou  wert  all  I  sought 

To  fill  this  anxious  breast, 
And  it  was  then  a  mournful  thought, 
That  thou  wert  not  my  rest ! 

3  But  oft  would  guilt  appear 

In  legal  horrors  drest, 
And  many  a  sad  foreboding  fear 
Denied  my  hope  of  rest ! 

4  And  long  with  heart-felt  pain, 

By  inward  foes  oppress'd, 
Some  friendly  hand  I  ask'd  in  vain, 
To  point  a  place  of  rest. 

5  Till  hast'ning  from  above, 

A  self-invited  guest, 
The  Saviour,  with  a  smile  of  love, 

Proclaim'd  himself  my  rest. 
,6  No  longer  canst  thou  fill, 

False  world,  this  peaceful  breast ; 
No  more  thy  frowns  my  comforts  kill, 

Since  Jesus  is  my  rest ! 

7  He  bids  that  scene  arise 

Which  life  and  love  invest ; 
He  bids  me  quit  each  earthly  prize, 
And  pant  for  heavenly  rest. 

8  Yes  !  I  shall  join  the  throng, 

By  his  own  voice  confest, 
And  celebrate,  in  ceaseless  song, 
My  Lord,  my  life,  my  rest !  e. 


SACRED  POETRY.  255 

77-    THE  CHRISTIAN  PILGRIM. 

Pilgrim,  burden'd  with  thy  sin, 

Come  the  way  to  Zion's  gate ; 
There,  till  mercy  speaks  within, 

Knock  and  weep,  and  watch  and  wait, 
Knock — he  knows  the  sinner's  cry, 

Weep — he  loves  the  mourner's  tears, 
Watch — for  saving  grace  is  nigh, 

Wait — till  heavenly  grace  appears. 
Hark,  it  is  thy  Saviour's  voice ! 

"  Welcome,  pilgrim,  to  thy  rest." 
Now  within  the  gate  rejoice, 

Safe  and  own'd,  and  bought  and  blest. 
Safe — from  all  the  lures  of  vice, 

Own'd — by  joys  the  contrite  know, 
Bought — by  love  and  life  the  price, 

Blest — the  mighty  debt  to  owe  ! 
Holy  pilgrim  !  what  for  thee 

In  a  world  like  this  remains  ? 
From  thy  guarded  breast  shall  flee 

Fear  and  shame,  and  doubt  and  pains. 
Fear — the  hope  of  heaven  shall  flee, 

Shame — from  glory's  view  retire, 
Doubt — in  full  belief  shall  die, 

Pain — in  endless  bliss  expire. 

CHABBE. 


256     SACRED  POETRY, 


178.  "  HOW  WILT  THOU  DO  IN  THE 
SWELLING  OF  JORDAN  ?" 


1  Dark  river  of  Death,  that  is  flowing 

Between  the  bright  city  and  me, 
Thou  boundest  the  path  I  am  going, 
O  how  shall  I  pass  over  thee  ? 

2  When  the  cold  stormy  waters  rise  o'er  me, 

And  earth  disappears  from  my  sight, — 
When  a  cloud  rises  thickly  before  me, 
And  veils  all  ray  spirits  in  night : — 

3  When  the  hands  I  love  dearly  are  wring- 

ing, 
The  eyes  all  for  me  wet  with  tears, 
The  hearts  that  surround  me  still  clinging, 
And  I  all  misgivings  and  fears : 

4  Ere  the  warmth  of  that  love  be  departed 

That  binds  us  so  closely  below, 
Could  I  bear  to  see  them  broken-hearted, 
Nor  feel  all  the  sting  of  their  woe ! 

5  O  Death  !  thou  last  portion  of  sorrow, 

The  prospect  of  Heav'n  is  bright ; 
And  fair  is  the  dawn  of  its  morrow, 
But  stormy  and  dreadful  thy  night ! 


SACRED  POETRY.  25? 

3  O  thou  who  hast  broken  the  pow'r 
Of  this  the  last  victor  of  men, 
Be  with  me  in  that  solemn  hour, 
O  grant  me  deliverance  then ! 

1  The  glory  from  Calvary  streaming, 
May  shine  o'er  the  cold  sable  wave ; 
And  the  faith  that  is  oftentimes  beaming, 
May  burst  through  the  gloom  of  the  grave. 

3  And  peace  may  shine  cloudless  above  me, 
When  1  think  what  my  Saviour  has  said, 
The  Father  himself  deigns  to  love  me, 
And  Jesus  has  died  in  my  stead ! 

)  With  the  prospect  of  meeting  for  ever, — 
With  the  bright  gates  of  heaven  in  view, 
From  the  dearest  on  earth  I  could  sever, 
And  smile  a  delightful  adieu ! 

edmeston. 


L79-         zion  COMEORTED. 

I  O  Zion  !  afflicted  with  wave  upon  wave, 
Whom  no  man  can  comfort,  whom  no  man 

can  save : 
With  darkness  surrounded,  by  terrors  dis- 
may'd,  [cay'd. 

In  toiling  and  rowing  thy  strength  is  de- 


258  SACKED  POETRY. 

2  Loud  roaring,  the  billows  would  thee  over- 

whelm, [helm ; 

But  skilful's  the   pilot   that   sits   at   the 
His  wisdom,  his  power,  his  faithfulness 

stand 
Engag'd  to  conduct  thee  in  safety  to  land. 

3  "  O  fearful,  O  faithless,"  in  mercy  he  cries, 
"  My  promise,  my  truth,  are  they  light  in 

thine  eyes  ? 
Still,  still  I  am  with  thee,  and  faithful  to 

keep, 
Though  seeming,  amid  the  rough  tempest, 

to  sleep. 

4  "  Forget  thee  I  will  not ;  I  cannot  forget 
What  Calvary  witness'd  to  cancel  thy  debt; 
On  the  palms  of  my  hands,  while  looking, 

I  see 
The  wounds  I  received,  in  suffering  for 
thee. 

5  "  I  feel  at  my  heart  all  thy  sighs  and  thy 

groans ; 
For  thou  art  most  near  me,  my  flesh  and 

my  bones ; 
In  all  thy  distresses,  thy  head  feels  the 

pain, 
Yet  all  are  now  needful,  not  one  is  in 

vain." 


SACRED  POETRY.  259 

}  O  Saviour,  we  trust  thee,  our  life  is  secure, 
Thy  wisdom  is  perfect,  supreme  is   thy 

power : 
In  love  thou  correctest,  our  souls  to  refine, 
To  make  us  at  length  in  thy  likeness  to 

shine. 

'  The  foolish,  the  fearful,  the  weak  are  thy 

care ; 
The  helpless,  the  hopeless,  thou  hearest 

their  pray'r ; 
From    all    our   afflictions  thy  glory  shall 

spring, 
The  deeper  our  sorrows,  the  louder  we'll 

sing.  J.  GRANT. 


.80.    MILTON  ON  HIS  BLINDNESS. 

iVhen  I  consider  how  my  light  Is  spent, 
Ere  half  my  days  in  this  dark  world  and 
wide, 
^.nd  that  one  talent,  which  is  death  to  hide, 
..odg'd   with   me   useless,  though  my  soul 

more  bent 
ro  serve  therewith  my  Maker,  and  present 
My  true  account,  lest  he  return  and  chide. 
"  Doth  God  exact  day-labour,  light  de- 
nied ?" 


260  SACRED  POETRY. 

I  fondly  ask :  But  patience,  to  prevent 
That  murmur,  soon  replies,—"  God  doth 
not  need 
Either  man's  work,  or  his  own  gifts ;  who 
best 
Bear  his  mild  yoke,  they  serve  him  best; 
his  state 
Is  kingly :  thousands  at  his  bidding  speed, 
And  post  o'er  land  and  ocean,  without 
rest ; 
They  also  serve,  who  only  stand  and  wait." 

181.  NATURE. 


7  The  God  of  nature  and  of  grace 
In  all  his  works  appears  ; 
His  goodness  through  the  earth  we  tract 
His  grandeur  in  the  spheres. 

2  Behold  this  fair  and  fertile  globe, 

By  him  in  wisdom  plann'd  ; 

'Tvvas  he  who  girded  like  a  robe 

The  ocean  round  the  land. 

3  Lift  to  the  firmament  your  eye, 

Thither  his  path  pursue  ; 
His  glory,  boundless  as  the  sky, 
O'erwhelms  the  wond'ring  view. 


SACRED  POETRY. 


261 


4  He  bows  the  heav'ns — the  mountains  stanC 

A  highway  for  their  God ; 
He  walks  amidst  the  desert  land, — 
'Tis  Eden  where  he  trod. 

5  The  forests  in  his  strength  rejoice  ; 

Hark  !  on  the  ev'ning  breeze, 
As  once  of  old,  the  Lord  God's  voice 
Is  heard  among  the  trees. 

6  Here  on  the  hills  he  feeds  his  herds, 

His  flocks  on  yonder  plains  ; 
His  praise  is  warbled  by  the  birds, 
O  could  we  catch  their  strains  ! 

7  Mount  with  the  lark,  and  bear  our  song 

Up  to  the  gates  of  light ; 
Or,  with  the  nightingale,  prolong 
Our  numbers  through  the  night ! 

8  In  ev'ry  stream  his  bounty  flows, 

Diffusing  joy  and  wealth  ; 
In  ev'ry  breeze  his  Spirit  blows, 
The  breath  of  life  and  health. 

9  His  blessings  fall  in  plenteous  show'rs 

Upon  the  lap  of  earth, 
That  teems  with  foliage,  fruit,  and  flow'rs, 
And  rings  with  infant  mirth. 

1 0  If  God  has  made  this  world  so  fair, 

Where  sin  and  death  abound, 


262  SACRED  POETRY. 

How  beautiful  beyond  compare, 
Will  paradise  be  found ! 

MONTGOMERY. 


182.  GRACE  OF  GOD. 

1  Grace  does  not  steel  the  faithful  heart, 

That  it  should  know  no  ill ; 
We  learn  to  kiss  the  chast'ning  rod, 
And  feel  its  sharpness  still. 

2  But  how  unlike  the  Christian's  tears, 

To  those  the  world  must  shed  ! 
His  sighs  are  tranquil  and  resign'd 
As  the  heart  from  which  they  sped. 

3  The  saint  may  be  compell'd  to  meet 

Misfortune's  saddest  blow ; 
His  bosom  is  alive  to  feel 
The  keenest  pang  of  woe. 

4  But,  ever  as  the  wound  is  giv'n, 

There  is  a  hand  unseen, 
Hasting  to  wipe  away  the  scar, 
And  hide  where  it  has  been. 

5  The  Christian  would  not  have  his  lot 

Be  other  than  it  is  ; 
For,  while  his  Father  rules  the  world, 
He  knows  that  world  is  his. 


SACRED  POETRY.  263 

5  He  knows  that  he  who  gave  the  best, 
Will  give  him  all  beside ; 
Assur'd  that  every  good  he  asks 
Is  evil,  if  denied. 

7  When  clouds  of  sorrow  gather  round, 

His  bosom  owns  no  fear : 
He  knows,  where'er  his  portion  be, 
His  God  will  still  be  there. 

8  And  when  the  threaten'd  storm  has  burst* 

Whate'er  the  trial  be, 
Something  yet  whispers  him  within, 
"  Be  still,  for  it  is  He  ! " 

9  Poor  nature,  ever  weak,  will  shrink 

From  the  afflictive  stroke  ; 
But  faith  disclaims  the  hasty  plaint 
Impatient  Nature  spoke. 

10  He  knows  it  is  a  Father's  will, 

And  therefore  it  is  good : 
Nor  would  he  venture,  by  a  wish. 
To  change  it  if  he  could. 

11  His  grateful  bosom  quickly  learns 

Its  sorrows  to  disown  ; 
Yields  to  his  pleasure,  and  forgets 
The  choice  was  not  his  own. 

MISS  CAROLINE  FRY. 


264     SACRED  POETRY. 
183.     YOUTH  AND  AGE. 

1  The  seas  are  quiet  when  the  winds  are  o'er, 
So  calm  are  we  when  passions  are  no  more } 
For  then  we  know  how  vain  it  was  to  boast 
Of  fleeting  things,  so  certain  to  be  lost. 

2  Clouds  of  affection  from  our  younger  eyes 
Conceal  that  emptiness  which  age  descries : 
The  soul's  dark  cottage,  batter'd  and  de- 

cay'd, 
Lets  in  new  light  thro'  chinks  that  time 
has  made. 

3  Stronger  by  weakness,  wiser  men  become 
As  they  draw  near  to  their  eternal  home  ; 
Leaving  the  old,  both  worlds  at  once  they 

view, 
That  stand  upon  the  threshold  of  the  new. 

WALLER. 


184.  DEATH. 

1  Yes  !  we  must  all  be  chang'd  by  death, 
Such  is  the  form  the  dead  must  wear ; 
And  so,  when  beauty  yields  her  breath, 
So  shall  the  fairest  face  appear. 


SACRED  POETRY.  265 

!  But  let  thy  soul  survey  the  grace 
That  yet  adorns  its  frail  abode  ; 
And  through  the  wond'rous  fabric  trace 
The  hand  of  an  unerring  God. 

J  Why  does  the  blood,  in  stated  round, 
Its  vital  warmth  throughout  dispense  ? 
Who  tun'd  the  ear  to  every  sound, 
And  lent  the  hand  its  ready  sense  ? 

I  WThence  had  the  eyes  that  subtile  force, 
That  sweetness  they  by  turns  display  ? 
Who  hung  the  lips  with  prompt  discourse,, 
And  tun'd  the  soft  melodious  lay  ? 

>  What  but  thy  Maker's  image  there 

In  each  external  part  is  seen  ? 
But  'tis  thy  better  part  to  wear 
His  image  pictur'd  best  within. 

>  Else  what  avail'd  the  raptur'd  strain, 

Did  not  the  mind  her  aid  impart? 
The  kindling  eye  would  speak  in  vain, 
Flow'd  not  its  language  from  the  heark 

r  The  blood,  with  stated  pace,  had  crept 
Along  the  dull  and  sluggish  veins ; 
The  ear  insensibly  had  slept, 

Tho'  angels  sung  in  choicest  strains, 

3  Then  let  us,  in  religion's  light, 
This  scene  of  terror  calm  survey, 


266  SACRED  POETRY. 

And  through  the  dark  and  gloomy  night, 
Watch  for  the  dawn  of  endless  day. 

CUMBERLAND. 


185.     NONE    UPON    EARTH    DESIRED 
BESIDES  CHRIST. 

1  How  tedious  and  tasteless  the  hours, 

When  Jesus  no  longer  I  see  ;  [flow'rs, 
Sweet  prospects,  sweet  birds,  and  sweet 

Have  lost  all  their  sweetness  with  me : 
The  midsummer  sun  shines  but  dim, 

The  fields  strive  in  vain  to  look  gay; 
But  when  I  am  happy  in  him, 

December's  as  pleasant  as  May. 

2  His  name  yields  the  richest  perfume, 

And  sweeter  than  music  his  voice  ; 
His  presence  disperses  my  gloom, 

And  makes  all  within  me  rejoice  : 
I  should,  were  he  always  thus  nigh, 

Have  nothing  to  wish  or  to  fear : 
No  mortal  so  happy  as  I, 

My  summer  would  last  all  the  year. 

3  Content  with  beholding  his  face, 

My  all  to  his  pleasure  resign'd; 
No  changes  of  season  or  place 

Would  make  any  change  in  my  mind : 


SACRED  POETRY.  267 

While  bless'd  with  a  sense  of  his  love, 
A  palace  a  toy  would  appear ; 

And  prisons  would  palaces  prove, 
If  Jesus  would  dwell  with  me  there. 

I  Dear  Lord,  if  indeed  I  am  thine, 

If  thou  art  my  sun  and  my  song, 
Say  why  do  I  languish  and  pine, 

And  why  are  my  winters  so  long  ? 
O  drive  these  dark  clouds  from  my  sky, 

Thy  soul-cheering  presence  restore  : 
Or  take  me  unto  thee  on  high, 

Where  winter  and  clouds  are  no  more. 


186.  FRIENDS  SEPARATED  BY  DEATH. 

1  Friend  after  friend  departs  ! 

Who  hath  not  lost  a  friend  ? 
There  is  no  union  here  of  hearts, 

That  finds  not  here  an  end ! 
Were  this  frail  world  our  final  rest, 
Living  or  dying  none  were  blest. 

2  Beyond  the  flight  of  time, — 

Beyond  the  reign  of  death, — 
There  surely  is  some  blessed  clime 

Where  life  is  not  a  breath; 
Nor  life's  affections  transient  fire, 
Whose  sparks  fly  upwards  and  expire. 


268  SACRED  POETRY. 

3  There  is  a  world  above, 

Where  parting  is  unknown  ; 
A  long  eternity  of  love, 

Form'd  for  the  good  alone  : 
And  faith  beholds  the  dying  here 
Translated  to  that  glorious  sphere  ! 

4  Thus  star  by  star  declines, 

Till  all  are  past  away ; 
As  morning  high  and  higher  shines 

To  pure  and  perfect  day  ; 
Nor  sink  those  stars  in  empty  night, 
But  hide  themselves  in  heav'n's  own  light. 

MONTGOMERY. 


187-  PATIENCE. 

1  Though  the  heart  that  sorrow  chideth, 

Sink  in  anguish  and  in  care ; 
Yet,  if  patience  still  abideth, 

Hope  shall  paint  her  rainbow  there. 

2  Hope's  bright  lamp  her  light  shall  borrow 

From  religion's  blessed  ray, 
And  from  many  a  coming  morrow 
Charm  the  clouds  of  grief  away. 

3  Wherefore  should  we  sigh  and  languish, 

Since  our  cares  so  soon  shall  cease  ? 
And  the  heart  that  sows  in  anguish, 
Shall  hereafter  reap  in  peace. 


SACRED  POETRY.  269 

4  This  is  not  a  scene  of  pleasure, 

These  are  not  the  shores  of  bliss  ; 
We  shall  gain  a  brighter  treasure, 

Find  a  dearer  land  than  this.       anon. 


188.  RACHEL  WEEPING. 

1  A  voice  comes  from  Ramah,  a  voice  of 

despair — 
For  death's  gloomy  angel  is  triumphing 
there  : 
The  children  of  beauty  his  arrows  have 
smote, 
And  Rachel  is  weeping  for  hers  that  are 
not! 

2  Alas  !  for  the  parent   whose  hope  and 

whose  trust 
Are  wither'd  and  broken,  and  hid  in  the 
dust — 
r    Where  the  blossom  of  summer  all  love- 
ly appears  ; 
But  the  dew  drops  of  ev'ning  are  ming- 
led with  tears. 

3  A  voice  comes  from  Ramah,   a  voice  of 

dismay — 
But  the  words  of  Jehovah  can  soothe 

it  away  : 
They  tell  of  a  region  where  grief  is  forgot — 
And   Rachel  is  solac'd  for  those  that 

are  not.  knox. 


270  SACRED  POETRY. 

189-    RECOVERY  FROM  SICKNESS. 

1  These  eyes,  that  were  half  clos'd  in  death, 

Now  dare  the  noontide  blaze  : 
My  voice,  that  scarce  could  speak  my  wants, 
Now  hymns  Jehovah's  praise. 

2  How  pleasant  to  my  feet,  unus'd 

To  tread  the  daisied  ground ! 

How  sweet  to  my  unwonted  ear 

The  streamlet's  lulling  sound ! 

3  How  soft  the  first  breath  of  the  breeze 

That  on  my  temples  play'd  ! 
How  sweet  the  woodland  evening  song, 
Full  floating  down  the  glade ! 

4  But  sweeter  far  the  lark  that  soars 

Through  morning's  blushing  ray ; 
For  then  unseen,  unheard,  I  join 
His  lonely,  heav'nward  lay. 

5  And  sweeter  still  that  infant  voice, 

With  all  its  artless  charms ; — 
'Twas  such  as  he  that  Jesus  took, 
And  cherish'd  in  his  arms. 

6  O  Lord,  my  God  !  all  these  delights 

I  to  thy  mercy  owe ; 
For  thou  hast  rais'd  me  from  the  couch 
Of  sickness,  pain,  and  woe. 


SACRED  POETRY.  271 

'Twas  thou  that  from  the  whelming  wave 

My  sinking  soul  redeem'd ; 
'Twas  thou  that  o'er  destruction's  storm 

A  calming  radiance  beam'd. 

GRAHAME. 


190.  LOOKING  UPWARD  IN  A  STORM 

1  God  of  my  life,  to  thee  I  call, 
Afflicted  at  thy  feet  1  fall ; 

When  the  great  water-floods  prevail, 
Leave  not  my  trembling  heart  to  fail ! 

2  Friend  of  the  friendless  and  the  faint ! 
Where  should  I  lodge  my  deep  complaint? 
Where  but  with  thee,  whose  open  door 
Invites  the  helpless  and  the  poor? 

3  Did  ever  mourner  plead  with  thee, 
And  thou  refuse  that  mourner's  plea  ? 
Does  not  that  word  still  fix'd  remain, 
That  none  shall  seek  thy  face  in  vain  ? 

4  That  were  a  grief  I  could  not  bear, 
Did'st  thou  not  hear  and  answer  prayer ; 
But  a  prayer-hearing,  answ'ring  God, 
Supports  me  under  ev'ry  load. 

5  Fair  is  the  lot  that's  cast  for  me : 
I  have  an  advocate  with  thee  ! 


272  SACRED  POETRY. 

They,  whom  the  world  caresses  most, 
Have  no  such  privilege  to  boast. 

6  Poor  though  I  am,  despis'd,  forgot, 
Yet  God,  my  God,  forgets  me  not ; 
And  he  is  safe,  and  must  succeed, 
For  whom  the  Lord  vouchsafes  to  plead. 

COWPER. 


191.    THE  LORD  WILL  PROVIDE. 

1  Tho'  troubles  assail,  and  dangers  affright, 
Tho'  friends  should  all  fail,  and  foes  all 

unite ; 
Yet  one  thing  secures  us,  whatever  betide, 
The  Scripture  assures  us  The  Lord  will 

provide. 

2  The  birds  without  barn  or  storehouse  are 

fed, 
From  them  let  us  learn  to  trust  for  our 

bread  ; 
His  saints,  what  is  fitting  shall  ne'er  be 

denied, 
So  long  as  'tis  written,  The  Lord  will 

provide. 

3  We  may,  like  the  ships,  by  tempests  be 

tost 
On  perilous  deeps,  but  cannot  be  lost ; 


SACRED  POETRY.  273 

Though  Satan  enrages  the  wind  and  the 
tide, 

The  promise  engages,  The  Lord  will  pro- 
vide. 

His  call  we  obey,  like  Abra'm  of  old, 
Not  knowing  our  way,  but  faith  makes  us 

bold; 
For  though  we  are  strangers  we  have  a 

good  guide, 
And  trust,  in  all  dangers,  The  Lord  will 

provide. 

When  Satan  appears  to  stop  up  our  path 
And  fill  us  with  fears,  we    triumph  by 

faith ; 
He  cannot  take  from  us,  though  oft  he 

has  tried, 
This  heart-cheering  promise,  The  Lord 

will  provide. 

He  tells  us  we're  weak,  our  hope  is  in 
vain, 

The  good  that  we  seek  we  ne'er  shall  ob- 
tain; 
:  But  when  6uch  suggestions    our    spirits 
have  plied, 

This  answers  all  questions,  The  Lord  will 
provide. 


274  SACEED   POETRY. 

7  No  strength  of  our  own,  or  goodness  we 

claim : 
Yet  since  we  have  known  the    Saviour's 

great  name, 
In  this  our  strong  tower    for  safety  we 

hide, 
The  Lord  is  our  power,  The  Lord  will 

provide. 

8  When  life   sinks  apace,  and  death  is  in 

view, 
This  word  of  his  grace  shall  comfort  us 

through : 
No  fearing  or  doubting  with  Christ  on  our 

side, 
"We  hope  to  die  shouting,  The  Lord  will 

provide. 

NEWTON. 


192.  THE  IDOL. 


Whatever  passes  as  a  cloud  between 
The  mental  eye  of  faith,  and  things  unseen, 
Causing  that  brighter  world  to  disappear, 
Or  seem  le6S  lovely,  and  its  hope  less  dear : 
This  is  our  world,  our  idol,  though  it  bear 
Affection's  impress,  or  devotion's  air ! 

ANON. 


SACRED  POETRY.     275 
193.  HOPE. 


Hope,  with  uplifted  foot,  set  free  from  earth, 
Pants  for  the  place  of  its  ethereal  birth, 
On  steady  wing,  flies  through  th'  immense 

abyss, 
Plucks  amaranthine  joys  from  bowers    of 

bliss, 
And  crowns  the  soul,  while  yet  a  sufferer 

here, 
With  wreaths  like  those  angelic  spirits  wear. 

COWPER. 


194.       THE  PILGRIM  OF  ZION. 


(  Sad  pilgrim  of  Zion,  tho'  chastened   a 

while, 
Thro'  this  dark  vale  of  tears,  Hope  still 

bids  thee  smile ; 
Far  spent  is  the  night, — see  approaching 

the  day, 
That  calls  thee  from  sorrow  and  sighing 

away. 


276  SACRED  POETRY. 

2  No  tear  of  repentance,  nor  wave  of  the 

storm, — 
Not  a  cloud  shall  e'er  darken  the  light  of 

that  morn, 
Where  thy  sun  sets  no  more,  but  for  ever 

shall  shine 
Unsullied  in  beauty,  in  glory  divine. 

3  White  ^thy  robe,   wash'd   in   blood,  the 

price  that  was  given 
To  redeem  thee  from  earth,  and  to  raise 

thee  to  heaven ; 
Where  love  blooms  in  peace,  and  blest 

joys  feast  thy  sight — 
Where   God  is  thy  glory,  the  Lord  thy 

delight. 

4  Oh !    pilgrim,  till  then,  be   thou  instant 

in  prayer, 
Life's  sorrows  and  pains  thy  Redeemer 

will  bear ; 
Reposing  in   death,    still  the   love  that 

ne'er  dies, 
Sheds  a  light  to  conduct  thee  in  peace  to 

the  skies.     „ 

J.  T. 


SACRED  POETRY.  277 

195.  FEED  MY  LAMBS. 


1  "  Feed  my  lambs,"  'twas  kindly  spoken, 

'Tvvas  a  legacy  of  love  ! 
Still  his  followers  keep  the  token 

Of  their  Saviour  pass'd  above. 
Heav'n  receives  him,  and  conceals  him, 

Yet  we  still  in  him  confide  ; 
Still  to  us  his  word  reveals  him, 

For  our  Saviour  and  our  guide. 

2  While  there  beats  one  heart  possessing 

Holy  love  and  heav'nly  fear, 
We  may  rest  secure  in  blessing, 

We  shall  find  a  shepherd  here. 
Yet,  kind  Lord,  whilst  thou  hast  given 

Earthly  good  from  day  to  day, 
Send  us. down  those  gifts  from  heaven, 

Which  can  never  fade  away  ! 

EDMESTON. 


196.  JUDGMENT. 


Hark  !  universal  Nature  shook  and  groan'd  ; 
'Twas  the  last  trumpet — see  the  Judge  en- 
thron'd ! 


278  SACRED  POETRY. 

Rouse  all  your  courage  at  your  utmost  need, 
Now  summon  ev'ry  virtue,  stand  and  plead. 
What !    silent  ?    Is  your  boasting  heard  no 

more  ? 
That  self-renouncing  wisdom,  learn'd  before, 
Had  shed  immortal  glories  on  your  brow, 
That  all  your  virtues  cannot  purchase  now. 
All  joy  to  the  believer !  he  can  speak — 
Trembling  yet  happy,  confident  yet  meek. 
Since  the  dear  hour,  that  brought  me  to  thy 

foot, 
And  cut  up  all  my  follies  by  the  root, 
I  never  trusted  in  an  arm  but  thine, 
Nor  hop'd  but  in  thy  righteousness  divine  j 
My  pray'rs  and  alms,  imperfect  and  defii'd, 
Were  but  the  feeble  efforts  of  a  child ; 
Howe'er   perform'd,  it  was  their  brightest 

part, 
That  they  proceeded  from  a  grateful  heart ; 
Cleans'd  in  thine  own  all-purifying  blood, 
Forgive  their  evil,  and  accept  their  good; 
I  cast  them  at  thy  feet — my  only  plea 
Is,  what  it  was,  dependence  upon  thee 
While  struggling  in  the  vale  of  tears  below, 
That  never  fail'd,  nor  shall  it  fail  me  now 

Angelic  gratulations  rend  the  skies, 
Pride  falls  unpitied,  never  more  to  rise, 
Humility  is  crown'd,  and  Faith  receives  the 

prize.  cowi'tu. 


SACRED  POETRY.  279 


197-       CHRISTIAN  LIBERTY. 


He  is  the  freeman  whom  the  truth  makes 

free, 
And  all  are  slaves  beside ;  there's  not  a  chain, 
That  hellish  foes,  confed'rate  for  his  harm, 
Can  wind  around  him,  but  he  casts  it  off 
"With  as  much  ease  as  Samson  his  green 

withes. 
He  looks  abroad  into  the  varied  field 
Of  nature,  and  though  poor,  perhaps,  com- 

par'd 
With  those  whose  mansions  glitter  in  his 

sight, 
Calls  the  delightful  scenery  all  his  own. 
His  are  the  mountains,  and  the  valleys  his, 
And  the  resplendent  rivers.     His  t'  enjoy 
With  a  propriety  that  none  can  feel, 
But  who,  with  filial  gratitude  inspir'd, 
Can  lift  to  heav'n  an  unpresumptuous  eye, 
And  smiling  say — "  My  Father  made  them 

all !" 
Are  they  not  his  by  a  peculiar  right, 
And  by  an  emphasis  of  int'rest  his, 
Whose  eye  they  fill  with  tears  of  holy  joy, 


280  SACRED  POETRY. 

"Whose  heart  with  praise,  and  whose  exalted 

mind> 
With  worthy  thoughts   of  that  unwearied 

love, 
That  plann'd  and  built,  and  still  upholds  a 

world, 
So  cloth'd  with  beauty  for  rebellious  man  ? 

COWPER. 


198.  "  WHAT  ARE  THESE  WHICH 
ARE  ARRAYED  IN  WHITE  ROBES, 
AND  WHENCE  COME  THEY  ?" 


1  Say  who  are  these  array'd  in  white, 

And  whence  this  shining  train  ? 
The  conqueror's  palm,  the  robe  of  light, 
Their  righteousness  proclaim. 

2  Thou  knowest,  th'  enraptur'd  soul  replies, 

As,  gazing  on  the  throng, 
Unnumber'd  voices  swell  the  skies 
With  never-dying  song. 

3  Their  hour  of  tribulation's  past, 

Cradled  on  beds  of  woe, 
Their  nurse  was  winter's  chilly  blast, 
A  world  in  arms  their  foe. 


SACRED  POETRY.  281 

\>  But  now  they  sing  of  battles  won — 
Of  garments  roll'd  in  blood — 
Of  vanquished  hosts  by  David's  Son, 
The  bleeding  Lamb  of  God  : 

5  OF  blood  that  loosed  the  captive's  chain, 
Redeem'd  his  life,  and  seal'd 
The  record  of  a  deathless  name, 
That  lives  in  heaven  reveal'd. 

J.   T. 


199.       THE  HIDING-PLACE. 


1  Hail,  sov'reign  love,  that  first  began 
The  scheme  to  rescue  fallen  man ! 
Hail,  matchless,  free,  eternal  grace, 
That  gave  my  soul  a  hiding-place  ! 

2  Against  the  God  that  rules  the  sky, 
I  fought  with  hands  uplifted  high ; 
Despis'd  the  mention  of  his  grace, 
Secure,  without  a  hiding-place  ! 

3  Enwrapt  in  thick  Egyptian  night. 
And  loving  darkness  more  than  light, 


282  SACRED  POETEY. 

Madly  I  ran  the  sinful  race, 
Too  proud  to  seek  a  hiding-place. 

4  But  thus  the  eternal  council  ran, 

"  Almighty  grace,  arrest  that  man  ;" 
I  felt  the  terrors  of  distress, 
And  found  I  had  no  hiding-place. 

5  Indignant  Justice  stood  in  view  ! 
To  Sinai's  fiery  mount  I  flew  : 

But  Justice  cried,  with  frowning  face, 
"  This  mountain  is  no  hiding-place." 

6  Ere  long  a  gracious  voice  I  heard, 
And  mercy's  heavenly  form  appear'd  : 
She  led  me  on  with  smiling  face, 

To  Jesus,  as  my  hiding-place. 

7  On  him  the  tenfold  vengeance  fell, 
That  would  have  sunk  a  world  to  hell ; 
He  bore  it  for  the  chosen  race, 

And  thus  became  their  hiding-place. 

8  A  few  more  rolling  suns  at  most, 
Will  land  me  on  fair  Canaan's  coast ; 
There  I  shall  sing  the  song  of  grace, 
And  see  my  glorious  hiding-place. 

HART. 


SACRED  POETRY.     283 

200.         WISDOM. 

Ah  !  when  did  wisdom  covet  length  of  days? 
Or  seek  its  bliss  in  pleasure,  wealth,  orpraise  ? 
No :  wisdom  views,  with  an  indiff 'rent  eye, 
All  finite  joys,  all  blessings  born  to  die, 
The  soul  on  earth  is  an  immortal  guest, 
Compell'd  to  starve  at  an  unreal  feast : 
A  spark  that  upward  tends  by  nature's  force, 
A  stream  diverted  from  its  parent  source ; 
A  drop  dissever'd  from  the  boundless  sea, 
A  moment  parted  from  eternity ! 
A  pilgrim  panting  for  a  rest  to  come ; 
An  exile  anxious  for  his  native  home. 

MRS.  H.  MORE. 


201.  SICKNESS. 

1  When  languid  nature,  in  deep  fever  burn- 
ing, 
Feels  all  her  vital  springs  are  parch'd 
and  dry, 
From  side  to  side,  still  restless,  ever  turn- 
ing, 
And  scar'd  by  phantoms  of  delirium  by  i 


284  SACRED  POETRY. 

2  How  sweet,  but  for  a  moment's  space,  t< 

ponder, 
Surrounded  by  those  bitter,  burninj 

things, 
Where  fresh  cool  life  and  gushing  healtl 

flow  yonder 
From  pure  celestial  and  immortal  springs 

3  And  if  to  death  the  captive  burn  and  Ian 

guish, 
And  earth  and  all  its  loves  and  joys  bi, 

o'er, 
In  yonder  temple  he  shall  lose  his  an 

guish, 
A  heav'nly  pillar  to  go  out  no  more,    j 

2SDMESTON.: 


202.  ANTICIPATION  OF  CELESTIAL} 
GLORY. 


As  some  lone  captive  on  a  foreign  shore 
Sighs  to  behold  his  native  land  once  more 
Counts  the  dull  hours  before  he  break  his 

chain, 
And  greets  his  lov'd,  his  long-lost  home 

again ; 


SACRED  POETRY.  285 

I  So,  bound  and  fetter'd  to  her  cell  of  clay, 
Th'  impatient  spirit  longs  to  burst  away ; 
Scorns  the  vain  world  for  nobler  realms 

above, 
And  burns  to  dwell  in  everlasting  love. 

J  In  those  blest  regions  of  eternal  day, 
No  painful  thorns  obstruct  the   heav'nly 

way, 
No  earthly  vapours  dim  th'  expanding  sight 
From  the  pure  blaze  of  uncreated  light. 

i  No  grief  is  there,  "no  tears  of  sorrow  flow 
No  bitter  memory  of  a  world  of  woe, 
No  ills,  no  wrongs,  immortal  joys  molest, 
The  wicked  harm  not,  and  the  weary  rest. 

5  O  !  might  we  bid  a  last  adieu  to  earth, 
And  fly  exulting  to  ethereal  birth ; 
Burst  the  weak  bars  that  hold  us  pris'ners 

here, 
And  view  the  glories   of   the   heav'nly 

sphere : 

5  Then  wrapt  in  visions  of  celestial  joy, 
Where  endless  praises  ev'ry  tongue  em- 
ploy, 
Our  ransom'd  souls,  absorb'd  in  sacred 

bliss, 
Might  see  the  great  Redeemer  as  he  is. 


286  SACRED  POETRY. 

7  But  first  we  must  abide  the  gen'ral  doom 
And  bow  unto  the  dark  and  silent  tomb, 
Death,  the  last  foe,  must  first  be  over 

come, 
Ere  we  can  gain  our  long-desired  home. 

8  Oh !  may  we  reach,  this  mortal  conflic 

past, 
On  wings  of  faith,  that  glorious  state  at  last 
Kept  by  his  might,  who  triumph'd  o'e 

the  grave, 
And  died  the  just,  an  unjust  world  to  save 

9  Then,  when  the  mingling  elements  shal 

meet, 
And  the  firm  earth  consume  with  ferven 

heat; 
When,  wrapt  in  flames,  and  girt  as  with 

robe 
Of  circling  fire,  shall  melt  this  solid  globe 

10  When,  all  around,  creation's  pillars  shake 
And  from  their  graves  the  sleeping  deai 

awake, — 
That  mighty  voice,  which  rends  the  part 

ing  skies, 
May  bid  our  waking  dust  to  glory  rise. 

N.  H 


SACRED  POETRY.     287 


203.  UPON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  WIFE. 


"Whoe'er,  like  me,  with  trembling  anguish 

brings 
His  dearest  earthly  treasure  to  these  springs, 
Whoe'er  like  me,  to  soothe  distress  and  pain, 
Shall  court  these  salutary  springs  in  vain : 
Condemn'd,  like  me,  to  hear  the  faint  reply, 
To  mark  the  fading  cheek,  the  sinking  eye, 
From  the  chill  brow  to  wipe  the  damps  of 

death, 
And  watch  in  dumb  despair  the  short'ning 

breath : — 
If  chance  should  bring  him  to  this  humble 

line, 
Let  the  sad  mourner  know  his  pangs  were 

mine. 
Ordain'd  to  lose  the  partner  of  my  breast, 
Whose  virtue  warm'd  me,  and  whose  beauty 

bless'd, 
Fram'd  ev'ry  tie  that  binds  the  heart  to 

prove, 
"Her  duty  friendship,  and  her  friendship  love, 


288  SACRED  POETRY. 

But  yet,  remembering  that  the  parting  sigh 
Appoints  the  just  to  slumber,  not  to  die, 
The  starting  tear  I  check'd, — 1  kiss'd  the 

rod, — 
And  not  to  earth  resign'd  her,  but  to  God ! 

LORD  PALMERSTON. 


204.  EPITAPH. 


Blame  not  the  monumental  stone  we  raise, 
"Tis  to  the    Saviour's,    not   the   creature's 

praise : 
Sin  was  the  whole  that  she  could  call  her; 

own, 
Her  goodness  all  deriv'd  from  Him  alone ; 
To  Sin  her  conflicts,  pains,  and  griefs  she 

owed, 
Her  conqu'ring  faith  and  patience  He  be- 

stow'd, 
"Reader!   mayst  thou  obtain   like   precious 

faith, 
To  smile  in  anguish,  and  rejoice  in  death. 

OLNEY  CHURCH-YARD. 


SACRED  POETRY.  289 

205.     ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  CHRIS- 
TIAN FRIEND. 

When  faith  and  love,  which  parted  from 

thee  never, 

Had  ripen'd  thy  just  soul  to  dwell  with  God, 

Meekly  thou  didst  resign  this  earthly  load 

Of  Death,  called  Life ;  which  us  from  life 

doth  sever. 
Thy  works,  and  alms,  and  all  thy  good  en- 
deavour 
Stay'd  not  behind,  nor  in  the  grave  were 

trod, 
But,  as  faith  pointed  with  her  golden  rod, 
Follow'd  thee  up  to  joy  and  bliss  for  ever! 
Love  led  them  on,  and  faith,  who  knew 
them  best, 
Thy  handmaids,  clad  them  o'er  with  purple 
beams 
And  azure  wings,  that  up  they  flew  so  dress'd, 
And  spake  the  truth  of  thee  on  glorious 
themes, 
Before  the  Judge;  who  thenceforth  bid  thee 

rest, 
And  drink  thy  fill  of  pure  immortal  streams. 

MILTON. 


290  SACRED  POETRY 


206.     LINES  ADDRESSED  TO  THE 
RING  DOVE. 


1  Sweet  bird,  again  that  plaintive  strain ; 

It  seems  the  Christian  voice ; 
O'er  earth  and  sin  constraint  to  roam, 
And  yet  in  hope  rejoice. 

2  Let  gayer  warblers  of  the  grove 

Their  varied  notes  express  ; 
Far  more  thy  single  strain  I  love, 
And  more  thy  pilgrim's  dress. 

3  Thy  notes,  which  erring  men  despise, 

Like  those  of  Zion's  song, 
To  one  alone  in  love  arise, 

Nor  heed  the  glitt'ring  throng  ! 

4  How  sad  they  cry,  from  thee  if  fate 

Should  rend  that  one  so  dear ! 
What  songs  express  thy  joyful  state, 
To  see  him  re-appear ! 

5  So  weeps  that  soul  the  Saviour  slain, 

For  whom  his  life  he  gave  : 

So  triumphs  that  he  rose  again 

Victorious  from  the  grave  j 


SACRED  POETRY.  291 

6  And  ah !  thy  soft  and  sweet  complaint, 

Thy  murmurs  when  carest ; 
So  mourns  the  saint,  by  earth  detain'd, 
Ev'n  on  his  Master's  breast. 

7  But  soon  with  swift  unburthen'd  wing 

His  soul  shall  mount  above, 
In  one  eternal  strain  to  sing 
A  dying  Saviour's  love. 

E.   Me 


207*   MAN  RESTORED  BY  GRACE. 

1  "  Child  of  man,  whose  seed  below 
Must  fulfil  their  race  of  woe  ! 
Heir  of  want,  and  doubt,  and  pain, 
Does  thy  fainting  heart  complain  ? 
Oh!  in  thought,  one  night  recall, 
The  night  of  grief  in  Herod's  hall ; 
There  I  bore  the  vengeance  due, 
Freely  bore  it  all  for  you. 

2  Child  of  Dust,  corruption's  son, 
By  pride  deceiv'd,  by  pride  undone, 
Willing  captive,  yet  be  free, 

Take  my  yoke,  and  learn  of  me. 
I,  of  heav'n  and  earth  the  Lord, 
God  with  God,  the  eternal  Word, 


292  SACRED  POETRY. 

I  forsook  my  Father's  side, 

Toil'd  and  wept,  and  bled  and  died. ' 

3  "  Child  of  Doubt,  does  fear  surprise, 
Vexing  thoughts  within  thee  rise  ? 
Wond'ring,  murm'ring  dost  thou  gaze 
On  evil  men- and  evil  days  ? 

Oh  !  if  darkness  round  thee  low'r, 
Darker  far  my  dying  hour, 
Which  bade  that  fearful  cry  awake, 
My  God,  my  God,  dost  thou  forsake? 

4  "  Child  of  Sin,  by  guilt  oppress'd, 
Heaves  at  last  thy  throbbing  breast  ? 
Hast  thou  felt  the  mourner's  part, 
Fear'st  thou  now  thy  failing  heart : 
Bear  thee  on,  belov'd  of  God, 
Tread  the  path  thy  Saviour  trod  ; 
He  the  tempter's  pow'r  hath  known, 
He  hath  pour'd  the  garden  groan. 

5  "  Child  of  Heav'n  by  me  restor'd, 
Love  thy  Saviour,  serve  the  Lord  ; 
Seal'd  with  that  mysterious  name, 
Bear  thy  cross,  and  scorn  the  shame  ; 
Then,  like  me,  thy  conflict  o'er, 
Thou  shalt  rise  to  sleep  no  more  ; 
Partner  of  my  purchas'd  throne, 
One  in  joy,  in  glory  one. 

Bowkler. 


SACRED  POETRY.  293 

208.  TRANSITORY    NATURE    OF 

EARTHLY  PLEASURE. 


1  The  morning  flow'rs  display  their  sweets, 
And  gay  their  silken  leaves  unfold, 
As  careless  of  the  noontide  heats, 
As  fearless  of  the  evening  cold. 

2  Nipt  by  the  wind's  unkindly  blast, 

Parch'd  by  the  sun's  directer  ray, 
The  momentary  glories  waste, 

The  short-liv'd  beauties  die  away. 

3  So  blooms  the  human  face  divine, 

When  youth  its  pride  of  beauty  shows  ; 
Fairer  than  spring  the  colours  shine, 
And  sweeter  than  the  virgin  rose : 

4  Till  worn  by  slowly  rolling  years, 

Or,  broke  by  sickness  in  a  day, 
The  fading  glory  disappears, 

The  short-liv'd  beauties  die  away. 

5  Yet  these,  new  rising  from  the  tomb, 

With  lustre  brighter  far  shall  shine  ; 
Revive  with  ever-during  bloom, 
Safe  from  diseases  and  decline, 


294  SACRED   POETRY. 

6  Let  sickness  blast,  let  death  devour, 

If  heav'n  must  recompense  our  pains  ; 

j  Perish  the  grass,  and  lade  the  flow'r 
If  firm  the  word  of  God  remains. 

S.  WESLEY. 


209-    "  THOU  HAST  MADE  SUMMER 
AtfD  WI-NTEK."' 

My  God,  all  nature  owns  thy  sway  ; 
Thou  giv'st  the  night,  and  thou  the  day; 
When  all  thy  lov'd  creation  wakes, 
When  morning  rich  in  lustre  breaks, 
And  bathes  in  dew  the  op'ning  flow'r, 
To  thee  we  owe  her  fragrant  hour ; 
And,  when  she  pours  her  choral  song, 
Her  melodies  to  thee  belong  ! 
Or  when,  in  paler  tints  arruy'd, 
The  evening  slowly  spreads  her  shade  ; 
That  soothing  shade,  that  grateful  gloom, 
Can,  more  than  day's  enliv'ning  bloom, 
Still  ev'ry  fond  and  vain  desire, 
.    And  calmer,  purer  thoughts  inspire  ; 
From  earth  the  pensive  spirit  free, 
And  lead  the  soften'd  heart  to  thee. 
In  every  scene  thy  hands  have  dress'd, 
0       In  every  form  by  thee  impress'd, 


SACRED  POETRY.     ~      295 

Upon  the  mountain's  awful  head, 

Or  where  the  shelt'ring  woods  are  spread ; 

In  every  note  that  swells  the  gale, 

Or  tuneful  stream  that  cheers  the  vale, 

The  cavern's  depth  or  echoing  grove, — 

A  voice  is  heard  of  praise  and  love. 

As  o'er  thy  works  the  seasons  roll, 

And  soothe,  with  change  of  bliss,  the  som, 

Oh  never  may  their  smiling  train 

Pass  o'er  the  human  soul  in  vain  ! 

But  oft,  as  on  their  charms  we  gaze, 

Attune  the  wond'ring  soul  to  praise ; 

And  be  the  joys  that  most  we  prize, 

The  joys  that  from  thy  favour  rise. 

H.  M.  WILLIAMS. 


210.  HEAVEN. 


The  golden  palace  of  my  God 
Tow 'ring  above  the  clouds  I  see : 
Beyond  the  cherub's  bright  abode, 
Higher  than  angels'  thoughts  can  be. 
How  can  I  in  those  courts  appear, 
Without  a  wedding  garment  on  ? 
Conduct  me,  thou  life-giver,  there, 
Conduct  me  to  thy  glorious  throne '. 


296  SACRED  POETRY. 

And  clothe  me  with  thy  robes  of  light, 
And  lead  me  through  sin's  darksome  night, 
My  Saviour  and  my  God. 

RUSSIAN  POETRY. 


211.    THE  CHRISTIAN'S  DEATH. 


It  matters  little  at  what  hour  o'  the  day 
The   righteous   falls   asleep ;    death  cannot 

come 
To  him  untimely  who  is  fit  to  die  ; 
The  less   of  this  cold  world,  the   more  of 

heaven : 
The  briefer  life,  the  earlier  immortality. 


212.    COMMUNION  WITH  SAINTS. 


1  Come,  let  us  join  our  friends  above, 

Who  have  obtain'd  the  prize, 
And  on  the  eagle  wings  of  love, 
To  joy  celestial  rise. 

2  Let  saints  below  in  concert  sing 

With  those  to  glory  gone, 


SACRED  POETRY.  297 

For  all  the  servants  of  our  King 
In  heav'n  and  earth  are  one. 

3  One  family,  we  dwell  in  him, 

One  church,  above,  beneath  ; 
Though  now  divided  by  the  stream — 
The  narrow  stream  of  death. 

4  One  army  of  the  living  God, 

To  his  command  we  bow ; 
Part  of  the  host  have  cross'd  the  flood, 
And  part  are  crossing  now. 

5  Even  now  to  their  eternal  home 

Some  happy  spirits  fly ; 
And  we  are  to  the  margin  come, 
And  soon  expect  to  die  ! 

6  O  Jesus,  be  our  constant  guide ; 

Then,  when  the  word  is  giv'n 
Bid  Jordan's  narrow  stream  divide, 
And  land  us  safe  in  Heav'n. 

ANON. 


213.    THE  CAPTIVITY  OF  JUDAH. 

1  By  the  rivers  of  waters,  where  Babylon 
dwells, 
The   captive   of  Zion  sits   pensive   and 
sad: 


298  SACRED  POETRY. 

With  the  wave  of  affliction  his   bosom 
high  swells, 
His  soul  with  the  garment  of  sorrow  is 
clad. 

2  Unheeded   the   bank    which    luxuriantly 

smiles, 

As  lav'd  by  the  waters,  it  drinks  of 
the  stream  ; 
Vain  the  rich-laden  breeze  with  its  fra- 
grance beguiles ; 

They  flit  as  the  shadows  that  sport  in  a 
dream. 

3  To  the  soul  of  the  stranger  no  charm  could 

impart 

The  calm  of  that  peace  o'er  which  me- 
mory weeps ; 
As  of  days  that  are  past,  "  days  of  rest," 
when  his  heart 
Repos'd  on  the  "  land  where  the  Pa- 
triarch sleeps." 

4  From  the  willow,  o'ershadowing  the  river, 

was  hung 
The  harp  of  its  exile,  inglorious  in  rest ; 
When    the   spoiler    of  Judah  beheld  it 

unstrung, 
As  scornful  he  glanc'd  at  the  "  seat  of 

the  blest.' 


SACRED  POETRY.  299 

'Tis  the  tyrant  whose  arm  binds  his  cap- 
tive in  chains, 
That  exultingly  points  to  the  "  harp  of 
the  just ;  " 
'Tis  the  voice  of  his  waster  its  melody 
claims, 
In  a  song  of  fair  Zion  now  prostrate  in 
dust. 

In  the  land  of  his  foe  shall  the  captive  arise, 
Wake  the  numbers  of  Zion,  her  altar 
profan'd  ? 
Sing   how    Babylon's   prince   rais'd    his 
hand  to  the  skies, 
When  the  pride  and  the  glory  of  Judah 
were  stain'd  ? 

Weep    for    Salem's    strong  towers,   dis- 
mantled, forlorn ; 
In  thy  land  shall  the  foe  from  his   prey 
never  cease  I 
Loose  his  bands  from  thy  neck :  Lo !   the 
star  of  thy  morn, 
Which  shall  light  thee  with  songs  to 
thy  "  border  in  peace." ^ 

J.  T. 


300  SACRED  POETRY. 

214.  "  O  LORD,  I  KNOW  THAT  U 
VERY  FAITHFULNESS  THOl 
HAST  AFFLICTED  ME." 


1  For  what  shall  I  praise  thee,  my  God 

and  my  King  ?  [bring  i 

For  what  blessings  the  tribute  of  gratitud 
Shall  I  praise  thee  for  pleasure,  for  health 

and  for  ease, 
For  the  spring  of  delight,  and  the  sun 

shine  of  peace  ? 

2  Shall    I    praise    thee    for    flowers   tha 

bloom'd  on  my  breast, 
For  joys  in   perspective,   and  pleasure 

possess'd  ? 
For  the  spirits  that  heighten'd  my  day  c 

delight, 
And  the  slumbers  that  sat  on  my  pillo> 

by  night  ? 

3  For  this  should  I  praise  thee  !     but, 

only  for  this, 
I  should  leave  half- untold  the  donation  < 

bliss : 
I  thank  thee  for  sickness,  for  sorrow,  fc 

care, 


SACRED  POETRY.  301 

For  the  thorns  I  have  gather'd,  the  an- 
guish I  bear : 

4  For  nights   of   anxiety,   watchings,   and 

tears, 
A  present  of  pain,  a  perspective  of  fears  ; 
I  praise  thee,  I  bless  thee,  my  King  and  • 

my  God, 
For  the  good  and  the  evil  thy  hand  hath 

bestow'd. 

5  The  flowers  were  sweet,  but  their  fra- 

grance is  flown, 
They  yielded  no  fruits,  they  are  wither'd 

and  gone ; 
The  thorn  it  was  poignant,  but  precious 

to  me, — 
'Twas  the  message  of  mercy, — it  led  me 

to  thee. 


215.  CHARITY. 

Witen  constant  Faith  and  holy  Hope  shall 

die, 
One  lost  in  certainty,  and  one  in  joy, 
Then,  thou  more  happy  pow'r,  fair  Charity  ! 
Triumphant  sister !  greatest  of  the  three  • 


302  SACRED  POETRY. 

Thy  office  and  thy  nature  still  the  same, 
Lasting   thy    lamp,    and    unconsum'd    th; 

flame, 
Shalt  stand  before  the  host  of  heav'n  confest 
For  ever  blessing,  and  for  ever  blest. 

PRIOR 


216.  UPON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  YOUN< 
LADY. 

Ah  me  !  these  youthful    bearers,  rob'd   i 

white, 
They  tell  a  mournful  tale.     Some  bloomin 

friend 
Is  gone, — dead  in  her  prime  of  years.  'Twx 

she, 
The  poor  man's-  friend,  who,  when  she  coul 

not  give,  [could 

With  angel  tongue  persuaded  those  wh| 
With  angel  tongue,  and  mild  beseeching  ey 
That  ne'er  besought  in  vain,  save  when  sr 

pray'd 
For  longer  life,  with  heart  resign'd  to  die,— 
Rejoic'd  to  die, — for  happy  visions  bless'd 
Her  voyage's  last  days,  and,  hov'ring  roun 
Alighted  on  her  soul,  giving  presage 
That  heav'n  was  nigh.     O  what  a  burst 


SACRED    POETRY.  303 

Of  rapture  from  her  lips  !  What  tears  of  joy 
Her  heavenward  eyes  suffus'd !   Those  eyes 

are  clos'd ; 
But  all  her  loveliness  is  not  yet  flown. 
She  smil'd  in  death,  but  still  her  cold,  pale 

face      ^  [lake, 

Retains   that  smile  :  As  when  a  waveless 
In  which  the  wintry  stars  all  bright  appear, 
Is  sheeted  by  a  nightly  frost  with  ice, 
Still  it  reflects  the  face  of  heaven,  unchang'd, 
Unruffled  by  the  breeze  or  sweeping  blast. 

GRAHAME. 


217. 


FUNERAL  ANTHEM. 


1  Brother,  thou  art  gone  before  us, 

And  thy  saintly  soul  is  flown 
"Where  tears  are  wip'd  from  ev'ry  eye, 

And  sorrow  is  unknown ; 
Prom  the  burthen  of  the  flesh, 

And  from  care  and  fear  releas'd, 
Where  the  wicked  cease  from  troubling, 

And  the  weary  are  at  rest. 

2  The  toilsome  way  thou'st  travelTd  o'er, 

And  borne  the  heavy  load, 
But  Christ  hath  taught  thy  languid  feet 
To  reach  his  blest  abode  ; 


304<  SACRED  POETRY. 

Thou'rt  sleeping  now,  like  Lazarus, 

Upon  his  father's  breast, 
Where  the  wicked  cease  from  troubling; 

And  the  weary  are  at  rest. 

3  Sin  can  never  taint  thee  now, 

Nor  doubt  thy  faith  assail, 
Nor  thy  meek  trust  in  Jesus  Christ 

And  the  Holy  Spirit  fail ; 
And  there  thou'rt  sure  to  meet  the  goo< 

Whom  on  earth  thou  lovedst  best, 
Where  the  wicked  cease  from  troubling, 

And  the  weary  are  at  rest. 

4  "  Earth  to  earth,"  and  "  dust  to  dust, 

The  solemn  priest  hath  said, 
So  we  lay  the  turf  above  thee  now, 

And  we  seal  thy  narrow  bed  : 
But  thy  spirit,  brother,  soars  away 

Among  the  faithful  blest, 
Where  the  wicked  cease  from  troubling, 

And  the  weary  are  at  rest. 

5  And  when  the  Lord  shall  summon  us: 

Whom  thou  hast  left  behind, 
May  we,  untainted  by  the  world, 

As  sure  a  welcome  find ; 
May  each,  like  thee,  depart  in  peace, 

To  be  a  glorious  guest, 
Where  the  wicked  cease  from  troubling 

And  the  weary  are  at  rest. 

MILM 


SACRED  POETRY.     305 
218.         PRAYER. 

1  What  various  hind'rances  we  meet 
In  coming  to  a  mercy-seat ! 

Yet  who  that  knows  the  worth  of  pray'r 
But  wishes  to  be  often  there  ? 

2  Pray'r  makes  the  darken'd  cloud  withdraw 
Pray'r  climbs  the  ladder  Jacob  saw, 
Gives  exercise  to  faith  and  love, 
Brings  ev'ry  blessing  from  above. 

3  Restraining  pray'r,  we  cease  to  fight , 
Pray'r    makes    the    Christian's    armoui 

bright ; 
And  Satan  trembles  when  he  sees 
The  weakest  saint  upon  his  knees. 

4  While  Moses  stood  with  arms  spread  wide, 
Success  was  found  on  Israel's  side ; 

But  when  through  weariness  they  fail'd, 
That  moment  Amalek  prevail'd. 

5  Have  you  no  words  ?  Ah  !  think  again, 
Words  flow  apace  when  you  complain, 
And  fill  your  fellow-creature's  ear  > 
With  the  sad  tale  of  all  your  care. 

6  Were  half  the  breath  thus  vainly  spent) 
To  Heaven,  in  supplication  sent, 

U 


306  SACRED  POETRY. 

Your  cheerful  song  would  oft'ner  be, 
"  Hear  what  the  Lord  has  done  for  me.* 

COWPER. 


219.    SABBATH  EVENING  HYMN. 

1  Ere  yet  the  ev'ning  star,  with  silver  ray, 
Sheds  its  mild  lustre  on  this  sacred  day, 
Let  us  resume,  with  thankful  hearts  agaii 
The  rites  that  heav'n  and  holiness  ordaii 

2  Still  let  those  precious  truths  our  though) 

engage, 

Which  shine  reveal'd  on  inspirations  page 
Nor  those  blest  hours  in  vanity  be  pass 
Which  all  who  lavish  will  lament  at  last 

3  O  God,  our  Saviour,  in  our  hearts  abid( 
Thy  blood  redeems  us,  and  thy  precep 

guide ; 
In   life   our   guardian,  and  in  death  01 

friend, 
Glory  supreme  be  thine,  till  time  shall  en 

4  And  as  yon  sun  descending  rolls  away, 
To  rise  in  glory  at  return  of  day, 

So  may  we  set,  our  transient  being  o'er 
So  rise  in  glory  on  the  eternal  shore ! 

ANO 


SACRED  POETRY.  307 


220.  THE  FAMILY  IN  HEAVEN  AND 
EARTH. 

1  'Tis  but  one  family, — the  sound  is  balm, 
A  seraph-whisper  to  the  wounded  heart, 
It  lulls  the  storm  of  sorrow  to  a  calm, 
And  draws  the  venom  from  the  avenger's 

dart. 

2  'Tis  but  one  family, — the  accents  come 
Like  light  from  heav'n  to  break  the  night 

of  woe, 
The  banner-cry,  to  call  the  spirit  home, 
The  shout  of  vict'ry  o'er  a  fallen  foe. 

3  Death  cannot  separate — is  memory  dead  ? 
Has  thought  too  vanish'd,  and  has  love 

grown  chill  ? 
Has  every  relic  and  memento  fled, 
And  are  the  living  only  with  us  still  ? 

4  No !  in  our  hearts  the  lost  we  mourn  re- 

main, 
Objects  of  love  and  ever-fresh  delight ; 
And  fancy  leads  them  in  her  fairy  train 
In  half  seen  transports  past  the  mourner's 

sight. 


308  SACRED   POETRY. 

5  Yes  !  in  ten  thousand  ways,  or  far  or  neai 
The  call'd  by  love,  by  meditation  brough 
In  heavenly  visions  yet  they  haunt  us  her* 
The   sad   companions    of    our   sweetes 

thought. 

6  Death  never  separates ;  the  golden  wires 
That  ever  trembled  to  their  names  before 
Will  vibrate  still,  though  every  form  ex 

pires, 
And  those  we  love,  we  look  upon  no  mort 

7  No  more  indeed  in  sorrow  and  in  pain,  > 
But  even  memory's  need  ere  long  wi 

cease, 
For  we  shall  join  the  lost  of  love  again 
In  endless  bands,  and  in  eternal  peace. 

EDMESTOK 


221.       THE  MORNING  STAR. 


1   Star  of  the  morn,  whose  placid  ray 
Beam'd  mildly  o'er  yon  sacred  hill, 
While  whisp'ring  zephyrs  seem'd  to  say, 
As  silence  slept  and  earth  was  still, 
Hail,  harbinger  of  gospel  light ! 
Dispel  the  shades  of  nature's  night ! 


SACRED  POETRY.  309 

2  I  saw  thee  rise  on  Salem's  tow'rs, 
I  saw  thee  shine  on  gospel  lands, 
And  Gabriel  summon'd  all  his  pow'rs, 
And  waked  to  ecstasy  his  bands ; 
Sweet  cherubs  hail'd  thy  rising  ray, 
And  sang  the  dawn  of  gospel  day ! 

3  Shine,  lovely  star !  on  every  clime, 
For  bright  thy  peerless  beauties  be ; 
Gild  with  thy  beam  the  wing  of  time, 
And  shed  thy  rays  from  sea  to  sea ; 
Then  shall  the  world  from  darkness  rise, 
Millennial  glories  cheer  our  eyes ! 

ANON. 


222.       THE  RIVER  OF  LIFE. 

I  There  is  a  pure  and  peaceful  wave, 
That  rolls  around  the  throne  of  love, 
Whose  waters  gladden  as  they  lave 
The  peaceful  shores  above. 

I  While  streams  which  on  that  tide  depend, 
Steal  from  those  heav'nly  shores  away, 
And  on  this  desert  world  descend, 
O'er  weary  lands  to  stray ; 

I  The  pilgrim  faint,  and  nigh  to  sink 
Beneath  his  lead  of  earthly  woe, 


310  SACRED  POETRY. 

Refresh'd  beside  their  verdant  brink, 
Rejoices  in  their  flow. 

4  There,  oh  !  my  soul,  do  thou  repair, 
And  hover  o'er  the  hallowed  spring, 
To  drink  the  crystal  wave,  and  there 

To  lave  thy  wearied  wing. 

5  There  droop  that  wing,  when  far  it  flies 
From  human  care,  and  toil,  and  strife, 
And  feed  by  those  still  streams  that  rise 

Beneath  the  Tree  of  Life. 

6  It  may  be  that  the  waft  of  love 

Some  leaves  on  that  pure  tide  have  driv'n, 
Which  passing  from  the  shores  above, 

Have  floated  down  from  heav'n. 

7  So  shall  thy  wounds  and  woes  be  heal'd 
By  the  blest  virtue  that  they  bring  ; 

So  thy  parch'd  lips  shall  be  unseal'd, 
Thy  Saviour's  praise  to  sing. 

ANON. 


223.   t  PRAY  WITHOUT   CEASING.1 

1   Pbay'r  was  appointed  to  convey 

The  blessings  God  designs  to  give; 

Long  as  they  live  should  Christians  pray 

For  only  while  they  pray  they  live. 


SACRED  TOETRY.  311 

2  The  Christian's  heart  his  pray'r  indites 

He  speaks  as  prompted  from  within, 
The  spirit  his  petition  writes, 

And  Christ  receives  and  gives  it  in. 

3  And  wilt  thou  in  dead  silence  lie, 

When  Christ  stands  waiting  for  thy 
pray'r  ? 
My  soul,  thou  hast  a  friend  on  high  j 
Arise  and  try  thy  interest  there. 
•1  If  pain  afflict,  or  wrongs  oppress  ; 
If  cares  distract,  or  fears  dismay, 
If  guilt  deject,  if  sin  distress  ; 
The  remedy's  before  thee— pray. 
5  Depend  on  Him,  thou  canst  not  fail, 

Make  all  thy  wants  and  wishes  known, 
Fear  not ;  his  merits  must  prevail, 
Ask  what  thou  wilt,  it  shall  be  done. 

HART. 


224.  AFFLICTIONS  OF  GOD'S  PEOPLE. 

1  "  Poor  and  afflicted,"  Lord,  are  thine, 
Among  the  great  unfit  to  shine  ; 

But  tho'  the  world  may  think  it  strange, 
They  would  not  with  the  world  exchange. 

2  "  Poor  and  afflicted,"  yes  they  are, 
They're  not  exemot  from  grief  and  care  ; 


312  SACRED  POETRY. 

But  he  who  sav'd  them  by  his  blood, 
Makes  ev'ry  sorrow  yield  them  good. 

3  "  Poor  and  afflicted,"  'tis  their  lot, 
They  know  it,  and  they  murmur  not 
'Twould  ill  become  them  to  refuse 

The  state  their  Master  deign'd  to  choose. 

4  "  Poor  and  afflicted,"  yet  they  sing, 
For  Jesus  is  their  glorious  King ; 
Through  sufferings  perfect  now  he  reigns, 
And  shares  in  all  their  griefs  and  pains. 

5  "  Poor  and  afflicted,"  but  ere  long 
They'll  join  the  bright  celestial  throng  j 
Their  sufferings  then  will  reach  a  close, 
And  heav'n  afford  them  sweet  repose. 

6  And  while  they  walk  the  thorny  way, ' 
They're  often  heard  to  sigh  and  say — 

"  Dear  Saviour,  come,  O  quickly  come ! 
And  take  thy  mourning  pilgrims  home." 

KELLY. 


225.  the  saviour's  righteous- 
ness. 


1  The  countless  multitude  on  high, 
Who  tune  their  songs  to  Jesus'  name, 
All  merit  of  their  own  deny, 
And  Jesus'  worth  alone  proclaim. 


5     SACRED  POETRY.  313 

2  Firm  on  the  ground  of  sov'reign  grace, 
They  stand  before  Jehovah's  throne ; 
The  only  song  in  that  bless'd  place, 

Is — '  Thou  art  worthy !  thou  alone !'      . 

3  With  spotless  robes  of  purest  white, 
And  branches  of  triumphal  palm, 

,     They  shout,  with  transports  of  delight, 
Heav'n's  ceaseless  universal  psalm. 

4  Salvation's  glory  all  be  paid 

To  Him  who  sits  upon  the  throne, 

And  to  the  Lamb,  whose  blood  was  shed, 

Thou !  Thou  art  worthy !  Thou  alone. 

5  For  thou  wast  slain ;  and  in  thy  blood 
These  robes  were  wash'd  so  spotless  pure ; 
Thou  mad'stus  kings  and  priests  to  God— 
For  ever  let  thy  praise  endure  ! 

6  While  thus  the  ransom'd  myriads  shout, 
"  Amen !"  the  holy  angels  cry ; 

"  Amen  !   Amen  !"  resounds  throughout 
The  boundless  regions  of  the  sky. 

7  Let  us  with  joy  adopt  the  strain 
We  hope  to  sing  for  ever  there  ! 

"  Worthy's  the  Lamb  for  sinners  slain, 
Worthy  alone  the  crown  to  wear  I" 


314  SACRED  POETRY. 

8  Without  one  thought  that's  good  to  plead, 
O  what  could  shield  us  from  despair, 
But  this — though  we  are  vile  indeed, 
"  The  Lord  our  Righteousness,"  is  there ! 

ANON. 


226.       THE  LOVING  KINDNESS  OF 
GOD. 


1  Awake,  my  soul,  in  joyful  lays, 

To  sing  thy  great  Redeemer's  praise; 
He  justly  claims  a  song  from  me, 
His  loving-kindness,  O  how  free! 

2  He  saw  me  ruin'd  in  the  fall, 
Yet  lov'd  me,  notwithstanding  all! 
He  sav'd  me  from  my  lost  estate, 
His  loving -kindness,  O  how  great ! 

3  Though  num'rous  hosts  of  mighty  foes, 
Though  earth  and  hell  my  way  oppose ; 
He  safely  leads  my  soul  along, 

His  loving-kindness,  O  how  strong ! 

4>  "When  trouble,  like  a  gloomy  cloud, 
Has  gather'd  thick  and  thunder'd  loud, 
He  near  my  soul  has  always  stood, 
His  loving-kindness,  O  how  good ! 


SACRED  POETRY.  315 

5  Often  I  feel  my  sinful  heart 
Prone  from  my  Jesus  to  depart ; 
But  though  I  have  him  oft  forgot, 
His  loving-kindness  changes  not. 

6  Soon  shall  I  pass  the  gloomy  vale, 
Soon  all  my  mortal  pow'rs  must  fail; 
O  may  my  last  expiring  breath 

His  loving-kindness  sing  in  death  ! 

7  Then  let  me  mount  and  soar  away, 
To  the  bright  world  of  endless  day ; 
And  sing  with  rapture  and  surprise, 
His  loving-kindness  in  the  skies. 

MEDLEY. 


227.  THE  RAINBOW. 


1  Triumphal  arch  that  fill'st  the  sky 

When  storms  prepare  to  part, 
I  ask  not  proud  philosophy 
To  teach  me  what  thou  art. 

2  Still  seem  as  to  my  childhood's  sight, 

A  midway  station  given, 
For  happy  spirits  to  alight 
Betwixt  the  earth  and  heaven. 


316  SACRED  POETRY. 

3  Can  all  that  optics  teach,  unfold 
Thy  form  to  please  me  so, 
As  when  I  dreamt  of  gems  and  gold 
Hid  in  thy  radiant  bow  ? 

4*  Whence  science  from  creation's  face 
Enchantment's  veil  withdraws, 
What  lovely  visions  yield  their  place 
To  cold  material  laws  ! 

5  And  yet,  fair  bow,  no  fabling  dreams, 

But  words  of  the  Most  High, 
Have  told  why  first  thy  robe  of  beams 
Was  woven  in  the  sky. 

6  When  o'er  the  green  undeluged  earth 

Heaven's  covenant  thou  didst  shine, 
How  came  the  world's  grey  fathers  forth 
To  watch  thy  sacred  sign  ! 

7  And  when  its  yellow  lustre  smil'd, 

O'er  mountains  yet  untrod, 
Each  mother  held  aloft  her  child, 
To  bless  the  bow  of  God. 

8  Methinks  thy  jubilee  to  keep, 

The  first-made  anthem  rang, 
On  earth  delivered  from  the  deep, 
And  the  first  poet  sang. 


SACKED  POETRY.  317 

9  Nor  ever  shall  the  Muse's  eye, 

Unraptur'd  greet  thy  beam  ; 
Theme  of  primeval  prophecy, 
Be  still  the  poet's  theme. 

10  The  earth  to  thee  its  incense  yields, 

The  lark  thy  welcome  sings, 
When  glittering  in  the  freshened  fields 
The  snowy  mushroom    springs. 

11  How  glorious  is  thy  girdle  cast 

O'er  mountain,  tower,  and  town, 
Or  mirror'd  in  the  ocean  vast, 
A  thousand  fathoms  down. 

12  As  fresh  in  yon  horizon  dark, 

As  young  thy  beauties  seem, 
As  when  the  eagle  from  the  ark 
First  sported  in  thy  beam. 

13  For  faithful  to  its  sacred  page, 

Heaven  still  rebuilds  thy  span, 

Nor  lets  the  type  grow  pale  with  age, 

That  first  spoke  peace  to  man. 

CAMPBELL. 


228.    THE  DYING  CHRISTIAN. 

1  When  those  dark  hours  of  earthly  love 
And  earthly  pangs  are  o'er, 
Those  lips  shall  bless — those  hands  shall 
Those  eyes  shall  look  no  more,  [move, 


318  SACKED  POETRY. 

2  Oh  !  let  no  tear  thine  eyelids  dim 

O'er  this  pale  form  of  clay  ; 
But  think  I  rest  at  peace  with  him 
Who  wipes  all  tears  away ! 

3  These  lips  transformed  shall  sound  th< 

Hosanna  to  the  Lamb —  [words 

These  hands  transfigured  sweep  the  chordi 
That  praise  the  great  I  am. 

4  These  hollow  eyes  but  seem  to  sleep, 

For,  oh  !  to  them  is  given 
An  endless  watch  of  bliss  to  keep, 
For  they  have  waked  in  Heaven  ! 

ANON 


229.     the  pilgrim's  song. 

1  Rise,  my  soul,  and  stretch  thy  wings, 

Thy  better  portion  trace  ; 
Rise  from  transitory  things 

Towards  heav'n  thy  native  place. 
Sun  and  moon,  and  stars  decay, 

Time  shall  soon  this  earth  remove  j 
Tlise,  my  soul,  and  haste  away 

To  seats  prepared  above. 

2  Rivers  to  the  ocean  run, 

Nor  stay  in  all  their  course  : 
Fire  ascending  seeks  the  sun, 
Both  speed  them  to  their  source 


SACKED  POETRY.  319 

So  a  soul  that's  born  of  God, 
Pants  to  view  his  glorious  face; 

Upward  tends  to  his  abode, 
To  rest  in  his  embraee. 

3  Cease,  ye  pilgrims,  rease  to  mourn, 

Press  onward  to  the  prize  ; 
Soon  the  Saviour  will  return' 

Triumphant  in  the  skies. 
Yet  a  season,  and  you  know 

Happy  entrance  will  be  giv'n; 
All  our  sorrows  left  below, 

And  earth  exchang'd  for  heav'n. 

ANON. 


230.    GRATEFUL  REMEMBRANCE 
OF  CHRIST. 

1  Remf.mbkk  thee  !  remember  Christ ! 

While  mem'ry  holds  her  place, 
Can  we  forget  the  Lord  of  Life, 
Who  saves  us  by  his  grace  ? 

2  The  Lord  of  Life,  with  glory  crown'd, 

On  heav'n's  exalted  throne, 
Forgets  not  those  for  whom  on  earth 
He  heav'd  his  dying  groan. 


320  SACRED  POETRY. 

3  The  promis'd  joy  he  then  obtain'd, 

When  he  ascended  hence, 
Up  from  the  grave  to  God's  right  hand, 
A  Saviour  and  a  prince ! 

4  His  glory  now  no  tongue  of  man, 

Or  seraph  bright  can  tell ; 
Yet  still  the  chief  of  all  his  joys, 
That  souls  are  sav'd  from  hell. 

5  For  this  he  came  and  dwelt  on  earth ; 

For  this  his  life  was  giv'n  ; 
For  this  he  fought  and  vanquish'd  death  : 
For  this  he  pleads  in  heav'n  ! 

6  Join,  all  ye  saints  beneath  the  sky, 

.Your grateful  praise  to  give : 
Sing  loud  hosannas  to  the  Lord, 
Who  died  that  you  might  live. 

DR.  WARDLAW. 


231.    PRAYER  FOR  THE  HOL  Y  SPIRIT. 


1  Come,  Holy  Spirit,  calm  my  mind, 
And  fit  me  to  approach  my  God  ; 
Remove  each  vain,  each  worldly  thought) 
And  lead  me  to  thy  blest  abode, 


SACRED  POETRY.  321 

2  Hast  thou  imparted  to  my  soul 
A  living  spark  of  holy  fire? 

O  kindle  now  the  sacred  flame, 
Make  me  to  burn  with  pure  desire. 

3  Impress  upon  my  wand'ring  heart 
The  love  that  Christ  to  sinners  bore  : 
Then   mourn  the  wounds  my  sins  pro- 

duc'd, 
And  my  redeeming  God  adore. 

4  A  brighter  faith  and  hope  impart, 
And  let  me  now  my  Saviour  see  ; 

O  soothe  and  cheer  my  burdened  heart, 
And  bid  my  spirit  rest  in  Thee. 

ANON. 


232.  ENCOURAGEMENT. 


1  O  God  !  my  heart  within  me  faints, 
And  pours  in  sighs  her  deep  complaints  ; 
Yet  many  a  thought  shall  linger  still, 

By  Carmel's  height  and  Tabor's  rill, 
The  Olive  Mount  my  Saviour  trod, 
The  rocks  that  saw  and  own'd  their  God. 

2  The  morning  beam  that  wakes  the  skies, 
Shall  see  my  matin  incense  rise ; 

X 


322  SACRED  POETRY. 

The  evening  seraphs  as  they  rove, 
Shall  catch  the  notes  of  joy  and  love  ; 
And  sullen  night  with  drowsy  ear, 
The  still  repeated  anthem  hear. 

3  My  soul  shall  cry  to  thee,  O  Lord, 
To  thee,  supreme  incarnate  Word, 
My  rock  and  fortress,  shield  and  friend, 
Creator,  Saviour,  source,  and  end  ; 
And  thou  wilt  hear  thy  servant's  pray'r, 
Though  death  and  darkness  speak  despair 

4  Ah  !  why,  by  passing  clouds  oppress'd, 
Should  vexing  thoughts  distract  thy  breast 
Turn,  turn  to  Him,  in  ev'ry  pain, 
Whom  never  suppliant  sought  in  vain; 
Thy  strength,  in  joy's  ecstatic  day, 
Thy  hope,  when  joy  has  pass'd  away. 

BOWDLEB 


233.        MISSIONARY  HYMN. 


]   From  Greenland's  icy  mountains, 
From  India's  coral  strand, 
Where  Afric's  sunny  fountains 
Roll  down  their  golden  sand ; 


SACKED  POETRY.  323 

From  many  an  ancient  river, 
From  many  a  balmy  plain, 
They  call  us  to  deliver 
Their  land  from  error's  chain. 


What  though  the  spicy  breezes 
Blow  soft  on  Ceylon's  isle, 
Though  every  prospect  pleases, 
And  only  man  is  vile  ! 
In  vain,  with  lavish  kindness, 
The  gifts  of  God  are  strewn, 
The  heathen,  in  his  blindness, 
Bows  down  to  wood  and  stone. 

Shall  we  whose  souls  are  lighted 
With  wisdom  from  on  high, 
Shall  we  to  man  benighted 
The  lamp  of  life  deny? 
Salvation  !   Oh,  salvation  ! 
The  joyful  sound  proclaim, 
Till  each  remotest  nation 
Has  learnt  Messiah's  name. 


4  Waft,  waft  ye  winds  his  story, 
And  you,  ye  waters,  roll, 
Till  like  a  sea  of  glory 
It  spreads  from  pole  to  pole : 


324  SACRED  POETRY 

Till  o'er  our  ransom'd  nature 
The  Lamb  for  sinners  slain, 
Redeemer,  King,  Creator, 
In  bliss  returns  to  reign. 


234.    THE  CHRISTIAN  ISRAEL. 

1  Thus  far  on  Life's  perplexing  path, 
Thus  far  thou,  Lord,  our  steps  hast  led 
Safe  from  the  world's  pursuing  wrath, 
Unharm'd  though  floods  hung  o'er  our 

head  : 
Here  then  we  pause,  look  back,  adore, 
Like  ransom'd  Israel  from  the  shore, 

2  Strangers  and  pilgrims  here  below, 
As  all  our  fathers  in  their  day, 
We  to  a  Land  of  Promise  go, 

Lord  !  by  thine  own  appointed  way : 
Still  guide,  illumine,  cheer  our  flight, 
In  cloud  by  day,  in  fire  by  night. 

3  Protect  us  through  this  wilderness 
From  serpent  plague,  and  hostile  rage, 
With  bread  from  heaven  our  table  bless, 
With  living  &t  "earns  our  thirst  assuage  j 


SACRED  POETRY.  325 

Nor  let  our  rebel  hearts  repine, 
Or  follow  any  voice  but  Thine. 

4  Thy  righteous  laws  to  us  proclaim, 
But  not  from  Sinai's  top  alone  ; 
Hid  in  the  rock-cleft  be  thy  name, 
Thy  pow'r  and  all  thy  goodness  shown 
And  may  we  never  bow  the  knee, 

Or  worship  any  God  but  Thee. 

5  Thy  presence  with  us,  move  or  rest ; 
— And  as  the  eagle,  o'er  her  brood, 
Flutters  her  pinions,  stirs  the  nest, 
Covers,  defends,  provides  them  food, 
Bears  on  her  wings,  instructs  to  fly ; 
Thus,  thus,  prepare  us  for  the  sky. 

6  When  we  have  number'd  all  our  years, 
And  stand  at  length  on  Jordan's  brink, 
Though  the  flesh  fail  with  human  fears, 
Oh  !  let  not  then  the  spirit  shrink, 
But  strong  in  faith,  and  hope,  and  iOve, 
Plunge   through    the    stream, — to    list 

above. 

MONTGOMERY. 


326      SACRED  POETRY. 


235.   ORDINANCES  A  PLEDGE  OF 
HEAVEN. 


1  The  festal  morn,  my  God,  is  come, 
That  calls  me  to  thy  hallow'd  dome, 

Thy  presence  to  adore  : 
My  feet  the  summons  shall  attend, 
My  willing  steps  thy  courts  ascend, 

And  tread  the  sacred  floor. 

2  What  joy,  while  thus  I  view  the  day 
That  warns  my  thirsting  soul  away, 

What  transports  fill  my  breast  J 
For  lo  !  my  great  Redeemer's  power 
Unfolds  the  everlasting  door, 

And  leads  me  to  his  rest. 

3  Ev'n  now  to  my  expecting  eyes 

The  heav'n-built  towers  of  Salem  rise, 
Ev'n  now,  with  glad  survey, 
I  view  her  mansions  that  contain 
Th'  angelic  forms,  an  awful  train, 

And  shine  with  cloudless  day. 

4  Hither  from  earth's  remotest  end, 
Lo,  the  redeem'd  of  God  ascend, 

Their  tribute  hither  bring ; 


SACRED  POETRY.  327 

Here  crown'd  with  everlastingjoy, 
In  hymns  of  praise  their  tongues  employ. 
And  hail  the  immortal  King : 

5  Great  Salem's  King !  who  bids  each  state 
On  her  decrees  dependant  wait : 

In  her,  ere  time  begun, 
High  on  eternal  base  uprear'd, 
His  hands  the  regal  seat  prepar'd 

For  Jesse's  favour'd  Son. 

6  Mother  of  cities  !  o'er  thy  head, 

See  peace,  with  healing  wings  outspread, 
Delighted  fix  her  stay  : 

How  blest,  who  calls  himself  thy  friend ! 

Success  his  labours  shall  attend, 

And  safety  guard  his  way. 

i  Thy  walls  remote  from  hostile  fear, 
Nor  the  loud  voice  of  tumult  hear, 

Nor  war's  wide  waste  deplore : 
There  smiling  Plenty  takes  her  stand, 
And  in  thy  courts  with  lavish  hand, 

Has  pour'd  forth  all  her  store. 

8  Let  me,  blest  seat,  my  name  behold 
Among  thy  citizen's  enroll'd, 

In  thee  for  ever  dwell ; 
Let  Charity  my  steps  attend, 
My  sole  companion  and  my  friend, 

My  Faith  and  Hope  farewell ! 

MERRIC& 


328  SACRED  POETRY". 

236.    THE  DYING  CHRISTIAN. 

1  "  Spirit — leave  thine  house  of  clay ! 
Lingering  dust — resign  thy  breath ! 
Spirit — cast  thy  chains  away ! 
Dust — be  thou  dissolv'd  in  death  ! 
Thus — th'  Almighty  Saviour  speaks, 
While — the  faithful  Christian  dies  ! 
Thus — the  bonds  of  life  he  breaks, 
And  the  ransom'd  captive"  flies  ! 

2  "  Prisoner — long  detain'd  below  I 
Prisoner — now  with  freedom  blest ! 
Welcome — from  a  world  of  woe  ! 
Welcome — to  a  land  of  rest !  " 
Thus  the  choir  of  angels  sing 

As  they  bear  the  soul  on  high  ! 
While  with  hallelujahs  ring 
All  the  region  of  the  sky  ! 

3  Grave — the  guardian  of  our  dust ! 
Grave — the  treasury  of  the  skies  ! 
Every  atom  of  thy  trust, 

Rests  in  hope  again  to  rise  ! 
Hark!  the  judgment-trumpet  calls  ! 
"  Soul — rebuild  thy  house  of  clay — 
Immortality  thy  walls, 
And  Eternity  thy  day  ! " 

MONTGOMERY, 


SACRED  POETRY.      329 


237.    THE  STONY  HEART. 


1  Oh  !  for  a  glance  of  heavenly  day, 
To  take  this  stubborn  stone  away : 
And  thaw  with  beams  of  love  divine 
This  heart,  this  frozen  heart  of  mine. 

2  The  rocks  can  rend,  the  earth  can  quake  5 
The  seas  can  roar,  the  mountains  shake  ; 
Of  feeling  all  things  show  some  sign, 
But  this  unfeeling  heart  of  mine. 

3  To  hear  the  sorrows  thou  hast  felt, 
Dear  Lord,  an  adamant  would  melt : 
But  I  can  read  each  moving  line, 
And  nothing  moves  this  heart  of  mine. 

4  Eternal  Spirit,  mighty  God  ! 

Do  thou  apply  the  Saviour's  blood ! 
'Tis  his  rich  blood,  and  his  alone, 
Can  move  and  melt  this  heart  of  stone. 

HART. 


330  SACRED  FOETRY. 


238.     THE     DYING     CHRISTIAN   TO 
HIS  SOUL. 


1  Vital  spark  of  heavenly  flame  ! 
Quit,  O  quit  this  mortal  frame! 
Trembling,  hoping,  lingering,  flying; 
Oh  the  pain,  the  bliss  of  dying  ! 
Cease,  fond  nature  !  cease  thy  strife, 
And  let  me  languish  into  life ! 

2  Hark  they  whisper — angels  say, 
"  Sister  spirit,  come  away ! 
What  is  this  absorbs  me  quite, 
Steals  my  senses,  shuts  my  sight, 
Drowns  my  spirits,  draws  my  breath  ? 
Tell  me,  my  soul — can  this  be  death? 

3  The  world  recedes  !— it  disappears  !— 
Heaven  opens  on  my  eyes  ! — my  ears 
With  sounds  seraphic  ring : 

Lend,  lend  your  wings  !  I  mount !  I  fly ! 
O  grave !  where  is  thy  victory? 
O  death !  where  is  thy  sting  ? 

POPE. 


SACRED  POETRY.  331 

239-    VANITY  OF  HUMAN  WISHES. 


Whebe  then  shall  hope  and  fear  their  ob- 
jects find  ? 
Must  dull   suspense    corrupt   the   stagnant 

mind  ? 
Must  helpless  man,  in  ignorance  sedate, 
Roll  darkling  down  the  torrent  of  his  fate  ? 
Must  no  dislike  alarm,  no  wishes  rise, 
No  cries  invoke  the  mercies  of  the  skies  ? 
Inquirer,  cease,  petitions  yet  remain, 
Which  heaven  may  hear,  nor  deem  religion 

vain ; 
Still  raise,  for  good,  the  supplicating  voice, 
But  leave  to  heaven  the  measure  and  the 

choice ; 
Safe  in  his  power,  whose  eyes  discern  afar, 
The  secret  ambush  of  a  specious  prayer. 
Implore  his  aid,  in  his  decisions  rest, 
Secure,  whate'er  he  gives  he  gives  the  best : 
Yet,  when  the  sense  of  sacred  presence  fires, 
And  strong  devotion  to  the  skies  aspires, 
Pour  forth  thy  fervours  for  a  healthful  mind 
Obedient  passions,  and  a  will  resign'd ; 
For  love,  which  scarce  collective  man  can  fill, 
For  patience  sov'reign  o'er  transmuted  ill ; 


332  SACRED  POETRY. 

For  faith  that,  panting  for  a  happier  seat, 

Counts  death  kind  nature's  signal  for  re- 
treat. 

These  goods  for  man  the  laws  of  Heaven 
ordain, 

These  goods  he  grants,  who  grants  the 
power  to  gain ; 

With  these  celestial  Wisdom  calms  the 
mind, 

And  makes  the  happiness  she  does  not  find. 

DR.  JOHNSON. 


240.    DEATH  OF  A  CHRISTIAN. 


1  Calm  on  the  bosom  of  thy  God, 

Fair  spirit !  rest  thee  now ! 
Ev'n  while  with  ours  thy  footsteps  trod, 
His  seal  was  on  thy  brow. 

2  JJust,  to  its  narrow  house  beneath ! 

Soul,  to  its  place  on  high ! 
They,  that  have  seen  thy  look  in  death, 
No  more  may  fear  to  die. 

MRS.  HEMANS. 


SACRED  POETRY.  333 


241.     HOPE  BEYOND  THE  GRAVE. 

1  'Tis  night,  and  the  landscape  is  lovely  no 
more ; 

I  mourn,  but,  ye  woodlands,  I  mourn  not 
for  you ; 

For  morn  is  approaching,  your  charms  to 
restore, 

Perfumed  with  fresh  fragrance,  and  glitter- 
ing with  dew. 

Nor  yet  for  the  ravage  of  winter  I  mourn ; 

Kind  Nature  the  embryo  blossom  will  save : 

But  when  shall  spring  visit  the  mouldering 
urn  ? 

O  when  shall  it  dawn  on  the  night  of  the 


2  'Twas  thus,  by  the  glare  of  false  science 

betray'd, 
That  leads  to  bewilder,  and  dazzles  to  blind, 
My  thoughts  wont  to  roam,  from  shade  on- 
ward to  shade, 
Destruction  before  me,  and  sorrow  behind, 
"  O  pity,  great  Father  of  light,"  then  I  cried, 
Thy  creature  who  fain  would  not  wander 
from  TW  I 


334  SACRED  POETRY. 

Lo,  humbled  in  dust,  I  relinquish  my  pride ; 
From  doubt  and  from  darkness  thou  only 
canst  free. 

3  And  darkness  and  doubt  are  now  flying 

away, 
No  longer  I  roam  in  conjecture  forlorn: 
So  breaks  on  the  traveller,  faint  and  astray, 
The  bright  and  the  balmy  effulgence  of  morn. 
See  Truth,  Love,  and  Mercy,  in  triumph 

descending, 
And    Nature    all   glowing   in   Eden's   first 

bloom ! 
On  the  cold  cheek  of  Death  smiles  and  roses 

are  blending, 
And   Beauty    Immortal   awakes   from   the 

tomb ! 


242.     A    REAL    OCCURRENCE    IN    A 
CIRCLE  OF  FRIENDS. 


Which  is  the  happiest  death  to  die  ? 
"  Oh !"  said  one,  "  if  I  might  choose, 


SACRED  POETRY.  335 

Long  at  the  gate  of  bliss  would  I  lie, 

And  feast  my  spirit  ere  it  fly, 
With  bright  celestial  views. 

Mine  were  a  lingering  death,  without  pain, 
A  death  which  all  might  love  to  see, 
And  mark  how  bright  and  sweet  should  be 

The  victory  I  should  gain  ! 

"  Fain  would  I  catch  a  hymn  of  love 
From  the  angel-harps  which  ring  above  : 
And  sing  it,  as  my  parting  breath 
Quivered  and  expired  in  death — 
So  that  those  on  earth  might  hear 
The  harp-notes  of  another  sphere ; 
And  mark,  when  nature  faints  and  dies, 
What  springs  of  heavenly  life  arise ; 
And  gather,  from  the  death  they  view, 
A  ray  of  hope  to  light  them  through, 
When  they  should  be  departing  too." 

"  No,"  said  another,  "  so  not  I : 

Sudden  as  thought  is  the  death  I  would  die; 

I  would  suddenly  lay  my  shackles  by, 
Nor  bear  a  single  pang  at  parting, 
Nor  see  the  tear  of  sorrow  starting, 
Nor  hear  the  quivering  lips  that  bless  me, 
Nor  feel  the  hands  of  love  that  press  me, 


336  SACRED  POETRY. 

Nor  the  frame,  with  mortal  terror  shaking, 
Nor  the  heart,  where  love's  soft  bands  are 
breaking — 

So  would  I  die  ! 

"  All  bliss,  without  a  pang  to  cloud  it ! 

All  joy,  without  a  pain  to  shroud  it ! 

Not  slain,  but  caught  up  as  it  were, 

To  meet  my  Saviour  in  the  air ! 
So  would  I  die  ! 

Oh  how  bright 

Were  the  realms  of  light 

Bursting  at  once  upon  my  sight ! 

Even  so, 

I  long  to  go, 

These  parting  hours,  how  sad  and  slow !" 

His  voice  grew  faint,  and  fix'd  was  his  eye, 
As  if  gazing  on  visions  of  ecstasy : 
The  hue  of  his  cheek  and  lips  decayed, 
Around  his  mouth  a  sweet  smile  played ;— - 

They  look'd — he  was  dead ! 

His  spirit  had  fled : 
Painless  and  swift  as  his  own  desire, 

The  soul  undress'd. 

Trom  her  mortal  vest, 
And  stepp'd  in  her  car  of  heavenly  fire ; 


SACRED  POETRY.  337 

And  proved  how  bright 
Were  the  realms  of  light/ 
Bursting  at  once  upon  the  sight ! 

EDMESTON.1 


243.  CONSOLATION. 

1  Child  of  sorrow,  lend  thine  ear  ; 
Turn,  and  thy  deliverer  see  ; 
Jesus  brings  his  ransom  near, 
Tells  thee  it  was  paid  for  thee. 

2  'Tis  the  precious  stream  that  flow'd 
From  his  hands,  his  feet,  his  side ; 
Then  he  made  our  peace  with  God. 
Justice  then  he  satisfied. 

3  Sins  of  deep  and  scarlet  dye 
Vanish  where  this  blood  is  known; 
Hellish  foes  in  terror  fly, 
Conscious  that  their  power  is  gone. 

4  This  wall  bring  thee  life  and  joy, 
When  'tis  sprinkled  on  thy  heart ; 
Nothing  shall  thy  peace  destroy, 
Death  resigns  his  poison'd  dart 

5  Welcome  then  to  mercy's  store, 
Mercy  for  the  vilest  free; 

Y 


HURNo 


338  SACRED  POETIIY. 

Trembling  6inner,  doubt  no  more, 
Trust  in  him  who  died  for  thee. 

6  But  reflect,  when  turn'd  to  God, 
What  it  cost  to  make  thee  clean ; 
Trample  not  on  Jesus'  blood, 
Love  the  Lord,  and  fear  to  sin. 


244. 


1  To  mark  the  sufferings  of  the  babe 

That  cannot  speak  its  woe  ; 
To  see  the  infant  tears  gush  forth; 

Yet  know  not  why  they  flow ; 
To  meet  the  meek  uplifted  eye, 

That  fain  would  ask  relief, 
Vet  can  but  tell  of  agony, — 

This  is  a  mother's  grief. 

2  Thro'  dreary  days  and  darker  nights, 

To  trace  the  march  of  death  ; 
To  hear  the  faint  and  frequent  sigh, 

The  quick  and  shorten'd  breath ; 
To  watch  the  last  dread  strife  draw  near, 

And  pray  that  struggle  brief, 
Though  all  is  ended  with  its  close,— 

This  is  a  mother's  grief. 


SACRED  POETRY.  339 

3  To  see  in  one  short  hour  decayed 

The  hope  of  future  years ; 
To  feel  how  vain  a  father's  prayers, 

How  vain  a  mother's  tears  ; 
To  think  the  cold  grave  now  must  close 

O'er  what  was  once  the  chief 
Of  all  the  treasured  joys  of  earth, — 

This  is  a  mother's  grief. 

4  Yet  when  the  first  wild  throb  is  past, 

Of  anguish  and  despair, 
To  lift  the  eye  of  faith  to  heaven, 

And  think — my  child  is  there ; 
This  best  can  dry  the  gushing  tear, 

This  yields  the  heart  relief, 
Until  the  Christian's  pious  hope 

O'ercomes  a  mother's  grief! 

DALE. 


245.  1  PETER  V.   7. 

"  Casting  all  your  care  upon  him,  for  he  carethjor 
you." 


1  "For  me !  was  it  rightly  I  heard  ? 
The  hope  too  presumptuous  I  fear 


340  SACRED  POETRY. 

Let  the  sweet,  the  encouraging  word 
Still  dwell  on  my  gratified  ear. 

2  On  my  ear  did  I  say  ?  little  gain, 

Little  comfort  such  gift  would  impart 
Oh  !  let  its  deep  impress  remain, 
Indelibly  stamp'd  on  my  heart. 

3  Does  God  then  his  creatures  invite 

Upon  Him  to  cast  ev'ry  care  ? 
His  word  does  Omnipotence  plight, 
Thus  freely  their  burden  to  bear  ? 

4  Oh  !  let  me  not  baffle  such  love, 

By  a  thankless  and  cold  unbelief; 
But  his  truth  who  has  promised  prove. 
By  resigning  my  every  grief. 

5  Does  a  Father  His  fostering  hand 

From  Heaven  in  mercy  extend  ? 
And  shall  I  such  goodness  withstand, 
And  refuse  such  a  bountifid  friend? 

6  Let  me  rather  with  rapture  embrace 

An  offer  so  gracious  and  kind; 
And  unlimited  confidence  place 

In  such  goodness  and  power  combin'd. 

7  Has  it  pleas'd  Him  in  wisdom  to  take 

My  earthly  dependence  away? 
Then  with  child -like  submission  I'll  make 
His  arm  my  sole  pillow  and  stay. 


SACRED  POETRY.  341 

8  I'll  repose  on  His  words  which  declare, 

That  the  desolate  still  He  befriends ; 

Makes  the  fatherless  children  His  care, 

And  the  cause  of  the  widow  defends. 

9  I'll  list  to  His  heart-soothing  voice, 

Who  declares  that   the  mourners  are 

Who  invites  them  in  Him  to  rejoice  [blest; 

And  assures  them  of  comfort  and  rest. 

10  To  the  heart  truly  humbled  by  woe, 

The  anointing  of  joy  shall  be  given; 
To  the  tears  that  from  penitence  flow, 
The  peace  that's  the  foretaste  of  Heaven. 

REV.  J.  MARRIOTT. 


246.         WEEP  NOT  FOR  ME. 


1  When  the  spark  of  life  is  waning, 

Weep  not  for  me. 
When  the  languid  eye  is  straining, 

Weep  not  for  me. 
When  the  feeble  pulse  is  ceasing, 
Start  not  at  its  swift  decreasing, 
'Tis  the  fettered  soul's  releasing ; 

Weep  not  for  me. 

2  When  the  pangs  of  death  assail  me, 

Weep  not  for  me. 


342  SACRED  POETRY. 

Christ  is  mine — He  cannot  fail  me, 

Weep  not  for  me. 
Yes,  though  sin  and  doubt  endeavour, 
From  his  love  my  soul  to  sever, 
Jesus  is  my  strength — for  ever  ! 

Weep  not  for  me. 


DALE* 


247. 


EPITAPH. 


Let  no  proud  stone  with  sculptur'd  virtue? 
To  mark  the  spot  wherein  a  sinner  lies ;  [ri&* 
Or  if  some  boast  must  deck  the  sinner's  grave, 
.Boast  of  His  love  who  died  lost  man  to  save. 


REV.  J.  MARRIOTT. 


248.       SUNSET  AND  SUNRISE. 


Contemplate,  when  the  sun  declines, 
Thy  death  with  deep  reflection  i 

And  when  again  he  rising  shines, 
Thy  day  of  resurrection  ! 


SACRED  POETRY.     343 
249-      THE  LITANY. 


1  Savioub  !  when  in  dust  to  thee, 
Low  we  bow  the  adoring  knee, 
When  repentant  to  the  skies, 
Scarce  we  lift  our  streaming  eyes,-^ 
O  !  by  all  the  pains  and  woe, 
Suffered  once  for  man  below, 
Bending  from  thy  throne  on  high, 
Hear  our  solemn  litany ! 

2  By  thy  helpless  infant  years, 
By  thy  life  of  wants  and  tears, 
By  thy  days  of  sore  distress, 
In  the  savage  wilderness, — 
By  the  dread  permitted  hour, 

Of  th'  insulting  tempter's  power,— 
Turn,  O  turn  a  pitying  eye, 
Hear  our  solemn  litany ! 

3  By  the  sacred  griefs  that  wept 

O'er  the  grave  where  Lazarus  slept,- 
By  the  boding  tears  that  flowed 
Over  Salem's  loved  abode, — 
By  the  anguished  tear  that  told, 
Treachery  lurked  within  thy  fold,— 
From  thy  seat  above  the^  sky, 
Hear  our  solemn  litany  ! 


344  SACRED  POETRY. 

4  By  thine  hour  of  dire  despair, 
By  thine  agony  of  prayer, 

By  the  cross,  the  nail,  the  thorn, 
Piercing  spear,  and  torturing  scorn, 
By  the  gloom  that  veiled  the  skies 
O'er  the  dreadful  sacrifice, 
Listen  to  our  humble  cry, 
Hear  our  solemn  litany  ! 

5  By  the  deep  expiring  groan, 
By  the  sad  sepulchral  stone, 
By  the  vault  whose  dark  abode 
Held  in  vain  the  rising  God  ; 

O !  from  earth  to  heaven  restored, 

Mighty  re-ascended  Lord, 

Listen,  listen  to  the  cry 

Of  our  solemn  litany  !  r.  grant. 


250.      THE  CHRISTIAN  INTERCED- 
ING FOR  HIS  CHILD. 

1  Fain  O  my  child,  I'd  have  thee  know, 

The  God  whom  angels  love ; 
And  teach  thee  feeble  strains  below, 
Akin  to  theirs  above. 

2  O  when  thy  lisping  tongue  shall  read, 

Of  truths  divinely  sweet ; 
May'st  thou,  a  little  child  indeed, 
Sit  down  at  Jesus'  feet. 


SACRED  POETRY.  345 

I'll  move  thine  ear— I'll  point  thine  eye, 

But  ah  !  the  inward  part — 
Great  God,  the  Spirit !  hear  the  sigh 

That  trembles  through  my  heart. 

Break,  with  thy  vital  beam  benign, 

O'er  all  the  mental  wild ! 
Bright  o'er  the  human  chaos  shine, 

And  sanctify  my  child. 

ANON. 


251.  "ARE  THEY  NOT  ALL  MINISTER- 
ING  SPIRITS?" 


1  How  cheering  the  thought  that  the 
spirits  in  bliss 

Will  bow  their  bright  wings  to  a  world 
such  as  this ; 

Will  leave  the  sweet  songs  of  the  man- 
sions above,  [of  love  ! 

To  breathe  o'er  our  bosoms  some  message 

They  come,  on  the  wings  of  the  morning 
they  come,  [home ; 

Impatient  to   lead  some  poor  wanderer 

Some  pilgrim  to  snatch  from  this  stormy 
abode,  [God. 

And  lay  him  to  rest  in  the  arms  of  his 

CUNNINGHAM. 


346  SACRED  P0ET11Y. 


252.     THE  MOTHERLESS  BABB  TO 
ITS  FATHER. 


Whene'er  thou  view'st  thy  darling  nigh, 
With  beating  heart  and  anxious  eye, 
Why  dost  thou  gaze  on  me  and  sigh, 

My  Father? 
Why  dost  thou  try  in  mine  to  trace 
Resemblance  of  that  much-loved  face, 
That  smile  of  gentleness  and  grace, 

My  Father? 
Could'st  thou  from  sorrow's  bondage  free, 
Partake  of  infancy  with  me, 
W7hat  glorious  visions  would'st  thou  see, 

My  Father ! 
The  hand  that  would  have  blest  me  still, 
Life's  anxious  part  allow'd  to  fill, 
By  thee  unseen,  protects  from  ill 

My  Father » 
While  others  watch  with  fond  alarm, 
To  save  my  tender  life  from  harm, 
She  shields  me  with  her  circling  armp 

My  Father ! 


SACRED  POETRY.  34/ 

And  when  the  day  no  slumber  brings, 
A  heavenly  song  she  sweetly  sings, 
And  fans  me  with  her  angel  wings, 

My  Father ! 
She  tells  me  of  a  world  above, 
From  which  she  shall  no  more  remove ; 
A  rest  where  reigns  eternal  love, 

My  Father ! 
She  whispers  of  a  blest  retreat, 
Where,  in  communion  soft  and  sweet, 
Our  souls  again  with  hers  shall  meet, 

My  Father ! 
And  should  it  be  my  blessed  lot, 
Ere  long  to  reach  that  heavenly  spot ; 
Then  if  thou  lov'st  me,  mourn  me  not, 

My  Father ! 
Yon  glorious  seraph,  yet  with  thee, 
From  earth  shall  set  my  spirit  free, 
And  guide  to  immortality, 

My  Father ! 


253.  TEMPTATION. 


1   The  billows  swell,  the  winds  are  high, 
Clouds  overcast  my  wintry  sky ; 
Out  of  the  depths  to  thee  I  call, — 
My  fears  are  great,  my  strength  is  smalL 


348  SACRED  POETRY. 

2  O  Lord,  the  pilot's  part  perform, 
And   guide  and    guard  me    through  tr 

storm, 
Defend  me  from  each  threat'ning  ill, 
Control  the  waves, — say,    "  Peace,   t 

still." 

3  Amidst  the  roaring  of  the  sea, 

My  soul  still  hangs  her  hope  on  thee ; 
Thy  constant  love,  thy  faithful  care, 
Is  all  that  saves  me  from  despair. 

4  Dangers  of  every  shape  and  name 
Attend  the  follow'rs  of  the  Lamb, 
Who  leave  the  world's  deceitful  shore, 
And  leave  it  to  return  no  more. 

5  Though  tempest-toss'd  and  half  a  wreck, 
My  Saviour  through  the  floods  I  seek  ; 
Let  neither  winds  nor  stormy  main 
Force  back  my  shattered  bark  again. 

COWPER 


254.     ON  THE  DEATH  OF  AN  AGEI 
MINISTER. 

1       Servant  of  God,  well  done  ! 
Rest  from  thy  loved  employ ; 
The  battle  fought,  the  victory  won, 
Enter  thy  Master's  joy. 


SACRED  POETRY.  349 

The  voice  at  midnight  came, 

He  started  up  to  hear ; 
A  mortal  arrow  pierc'd  his  frame, 

He  fell,— but  felt  no  fear. 

Tranquil  amidst  alarms, 

It  found  him  on  the  field, 
A  veteran  slumb'ring  on  his  arms, 

Beneath  his  red-cross  shield. 

His  sword  was  in  his  hand, 

Still  warm  with  recent  fight, 
Ready  that  moment,  at  command, 

Through  rock  and  steel  to  smite. 

It  was  a  two-edged  blade 

Of  heavenly  temper  keen  ; 
And  double  were  the  wounds  it  made, 

Where'er  it  glanced  between. 

'Twas  death  to  sin, — 'twas  life 

To  all  who  mourn'd  for  sin ; 
It  kindled  and  it  silenced  strife, 

Made  war  and  peace  within- 

Oft  with  its  fiery  force 

His  arm  had  quell'd  the  foe, 
And  laid;  resistless  in  his  course, 

The  alien  armies  low. 

Bent  on  such  glorious  toils, 

The  world  to  him  was  loss, 
Yet  all  his  trophies,  all  his  spoils, 

He  hung  upon  the  cross. 


350  SACRED  POETRY. 

9  At  midnight  came  the  cry, 

"  To  meet  thy  God  prepare  !M 
He  woke — and  caught  his  captain's  eye ; 
Then,  strong  in  faith  and  prayer, 

10  His  spirit,  with  a  bound, 
Left  its  encumbering  clay  ; 

His  tent,  at  sunrise,  on  the  ground, 
A  darken'd  ruin  lay. 

1 1  The  pains  of  death  are  past, 

Labour  and  sorrow  cease  ; 
And,  life's  long  warfare  closed  at  last,, 
His  soul  is  found  in  peace. 

1 2  Soldier  of  Christ,  well  done  ! 
Praise  be  thy  new  employ  ; 

And  while  eternal  ages  run, 
Rest  in  thy  Saviour's  joy. 

MONTGOMERY, 


255.  THE  SOUL  THIRSTINGAFTER  GOD 

1   As  pants  the  wearied   hart   for    cooling 

springs, 
That  sinks    exhausted    in  the  summer's 

chase  ; 
So  pants  my  soul  for  thee,  great  King  oi 

kings  ! 
So  thirsts  to  reach  thy  sacred  dwelling 

place. 


SACRED  POETRY.  351 

On  bitter  tears  my  pining  soul  hath  fed, 
While  taunting  foes  deride  my  deep  de- 
spair ; 
"  Say,  where  is  now  thy  great  deliverer 

fled? 
Thy  mighty  God — abandoned  wanderer, 

where  ?" 
Oft  dwell  my  thoughts  on  those  thrice 

happy  days, 
When  to  thy  courts  I   led    the    willing 

throng ; 
Our  mirth  was  worship,  all  our  pleasure 

praise, 
And  fe:'J  joys  still    closed  with  sacred 

Sv  rg. 
Why  throb,  ni/  heart?    Why   sink,  my 

saddening  soul  ? 
Why  droop  to  earth  with  various  woes 

oppre&s'd  ? 
My  years  shall  yet  in  blissful  circles  roll, 
And  peace  be  yet  an  inmate  of  this  breast. 
By  Jordan's  banks  with  devious  steps  I 

stray, 
O'er  Hermon's  rugged  rocks  and  deserts 

drear ; 
E'en  there  thy  hand  shall  guide  my  lonely 

way, 
There  thy  remembrance  shall  my  spirit 

cheer 


352  SACRED  POETRY. 

6  In  rapid  floods  the  vernal  torrents  roll, 
Harsh  sounding  cataracts  responsive  roar; 
Thine  angry  billows  overwhelm  my  soul, 
And  dash  my  shatter'd  bark  from  shore  to 

shore. 

7  Yet  thy  sure  mercies  ever  in  my  sight, 
My  heart  shall  gladden  through  the  tedi< 

ous  day ; 
And,  'midst  the  dark  and  gloomy  shades 

of  night, 
To  thee  I'll  duly  tune  the  grateful  lay. 

8  Rock  of  my  hope !   great  Solace  of  mj 

heart ! 
O  !  why  desert  the  offspring  of  thy  care, 
While  taunting  foes  thus  point  the  invi- 
dious dart — 
"  Where  is  thy  God  ?  abandon'd  wander- 
er,  where  ? 

9  Why  faint,  my  soul  ?   Why  doubt  Jeho- 

vah's aid? 
Thy  God,  the  God  of  mercy  still  shal 

prove : 
Within  his  courts  thy  thanks  shall  yet  b« 

paid  ;— 
Unquestion'd  be  his  faithfulness  and  love 

BISHOP  LOWTH 


SACRED  POETRY.  353 


256.  CHRIST  CALLING. 

How  long  the  time  since  Christ  began 

To  call  in  vain  on  me ! 
Deaf  to  his  warning  voice,  I  ran 

Through  paths  of  vanity. 

!  He  call'd  me,  when  my  thoughtless  prime 
Was  early  ripe  to  ill ; 
I  pass'd  from  folly  on  to  crime, 
And  yet  He  call'd  me  still. 

:  He  call'd  me,  in  the  time  of  dread,  f 

When  death  was  full  in  view ; 
I  trembled  on  my  feverish  bed, 
And  rose  to  sin  anew. 

Yet  could  I  hear  Him  once  again, 
As  I  have  heard  of  old, 
i  Methinks  He  should  not  call  in  vain 
His  wanderer  to  the  fold. 

O  thou,  that  every  thought  dost  know, 
And  answerest  every  prayer  ! 

Try  me  with  sickness,  want  or  woe, 
But  snatch  me  from  despair. 


354  SACRED  POETRY. 

6  My  struggling  will  by  grace  control, 
Renew  my  broken  vow  : 
—What  blessed  light  breaks  on  my  sou 
My  God !  I  hear  Thee  now. 

BISHOP  HEBE 


257-  MIDNIGHT. 

1  My  God,  I  now  from  sleep  awake, 
The  sole  possession  of  me  take ; 
From  midnight  terrors  me  secure, 
And  guard  my  heart  from  thoughts 

pure. 

2  Bless'd  angels,  while  we  silent  lie, 
Your  Hallelujahs  sing  on  high ; 
You  joyful  hymn  the  ever  blest 
Before  the  throne,  and  never  rest. 

3  I  with  your  choir  celestial  join, 
In  offering  up  a  hymn  divine; 
With  you  in  heaven  I  hope  to  dwell, 
And  bid  the  night  and  world  farewell. 

4*  My  soul,  when  I  shake  off  this  dust, 
Lord,  in  thy  arms  I  will  intrust : 
O  make  me  thy  peculiar  care, 
Some  mansion  for  my  soul  prepare. 


SACRED  POETRY.  355 

5  O  may  I  always  ready  stand, 
With  my  lamp  burning  in  my  hand ; 
May  I  in  sight  of  heaven  rejoice, 
Whene'er  I  hear  the  Bridegroom's  voice. 

6  All  praise  to  Thee,  in  light  array'd, 
Who  light  thy  dwelling-place  hast  made, 
A  boundless  ocean  of  bright  beams 
From  thy  all-glorious  Godhead  streams. 

7  Blest  Jesus,  Thou  on  heaven  intent, 
Whole  nights  hast  in  devotion  spent ; 
But  I,  frail  creature,  soon  am  tired, 

i     And  all  my  zeal  is  soon  expired. 

3  Shine  on  me  Lord,  new  life  impart, 
Fresh  ardours  kindle  in  my  heart ; 
One  ray  of  thy  all-quickening  light 
Dispels  the  sloth  and  clouds  of  night. 

3  Lord,  lest  the  tempter  me  surprise, 
Watch  over  thine  own  sacrifice ; 
All  loose,  all  idle  thoughts  cast  out, 
And  make  my  very  dreams  devout. 

10  Praise  God  from  whom  all  blessings  flow; 
Praise  Him,  all  creatures  here  below  ; 
Praise  Him  above,  ye  heavenly  host, 
Praise  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost. 

BISHOP  KENN. 


356     SACRED  POETRY. 

258.  '*■  SAVE,  LORD  !  OR  WE  PERISH.' 

1  When  through  the   torn   sail  the  wil< 

tempest  is  streaming, 
When  o'er  the  dark  wave  the  red  light 

ning  is  gleaming, 
Nor  hope  lends  a  ray,  the  poor  seaman  fc 

cherish, 
We  fly  to  our  Maker :  "  Save,  Lord !  o 

we  perish." 

2  O  Jesus  !  once  rock'd  on  the  breast  of  th 

billow, 
Aroused  by  the  shriek  of  despair  from  th 

pillow : 
Now  seated  in  glory,  the  mariner  cherish 
Who  cries,  in  his  anguish,  "  Save,  Lord 

or  we  perish." 

3  And,  O  !  when  the  whirlwind  of  passio: 

is  raging, 
When  sin  in  our  hearts  his  wild  warfare  i 

waging, 
Then  send  down  thy  grace,  thy  redeemer 

to  cherish ; 
Rebuke  the  destroyer ;  "  Save,  Lord,  o 

we  perish." 

BISHOP  HEBEB 


SACRED  POETRY.  357 

259-    THE  ENTIRE  SURRENDER  OF 
THE  SOUL. 


Peace  has  unveil'd  her  smiling  face, 
And  wooes  thy  soul  to  her  embrace  : 
Enjoy'd  with  ease,  if  thou  refrain 
From  earthly  love,  else  sought  in  vain ; 
She  dwells  with  all  who  truth  prefer, 
But  seeks  not  them  who  seek  not  her. 

Yield  to  the  Lord,  with  simple  heart, 
All  that  thou  hast,  and  all  thou  art ; 
Renounce  all  strength  but  strength  divine, 
And  peace  shall  be  for  ever  thine ; 
Behold  the  paths  the  saints  have  trod, 
The  paths  which  led  them  home  to  God. 

MADAME  GUION. 


260.    THE  EMBLEMS  OF  DEATH. 


See  the  leaves  around  us  falling, 
Dry  and  wither'd  to  the  ground ; 

Thus  to  thoughtless  mortals  calling, 
In  a  sad  and  solemn  sound : — 

"  Sons  of  Adam,  (once  in  Eden, 
Where,  like  us,  he  blighted  fell,) 


358  SACRED  POETRY. 

Hear  the  lesson  we  are  reading ; 
Mark  the  awful  truth  we  tell  • 

3  "  Youth  on  length  of  days  presuming, 
Who  the  paths  of  pleasure  tread, 
View  us,  late  in  beauty  blooming, 
Number'd  now  among  the  dead. 

4?  "  What  though  yet  no  losses  grieve  you, 
Gay  with  health  and  many  a  grace  ! 
Let  not  cloudless  skies  deceive  you ; 
Summer  gives  to  autumn  place. 

5  "  Yearly  in  our  course  returning, 

Messengers  of  shortest  stay, 
Thus  we  preach  this  truth  concerning, 
Heaven  and  earth  shall  pass  away." 

6  On  the  tree  of  life  eternal, 

O  let  all  our  hopes  be  laid ! 
This  alone,  for  ever  vernal, 
Bears  a  leaf  that  shall  not  fade. 

BISHOP  HORNE. 


261.  WEAK  BELIEVERS  COMFORTED. 

1       Your  harps,  ye  trembling  saints, 
Down  from  the  willows  take ; 
Loud  to  the  praise  of  love  divine, 
Bid  every  string  awake. 


SACRED  POETRY.  359 

Though  in  a  foreign  land, 

We  are  not  far  from  home, 

And  nearer  to  our  house  above 

We  every  moment  come. 

His  grace  will  to  the  end, 
Stronger  and  brighter  shine ; 
Nor  present  things,  nor  things  to  come, 
Shall  quench  the  love  divine. 

When  we  in  darkness  walk, 
Nor  feel  the  heavenly  flame  ; 
Then  is  the  time  to  trust  our  God, 
And  rest  upon  his  name. 

Soon  shall  our  doubts  and  fears 
Subside,  at  his  control ; 
His  loving-kindness  shall  break  through 
The  midnight  of  the  soul. 

Bless'd  is  the  man,  O  God, 
That  stays  himself  on  Thee  ! 
Who  waits  for  thy  salvation,  Lord, 
Shall  thy  salvation  see. 

TOPLADY. 


262.    "  LOVE  NEVER  FAILETH  " 

They  sin  who  tell  us  love  can  die : 
With  life  all  other  passions  fly, 
All  others  are  but  vanitv, 


360 


SACRED  POETRY. 


In  heaven,  ambition  cannot  dwell, 

Nor  avarice  in  the  vault  of  hell ; 

Earthly  these  passions  of  the  earth, 

They  perish  where  they  had  their  birth  ; 

But  love  is  indestructible. 

Its  holy  flame  for  ever  burnetii, 

From  heaven  it  came,  to  heaven  returneth  ; 

Too  oft  on  earth  a  troubled  guest, 

At  times  deceived,  at  times  distrest, 

It  here  is  tried  and  purified, 

It  hath  in  heaven  its  perfect  rest ; 

It  soweth  here  in  toil  and  care, 

But  the  harvest  time  of  love  is  there. 

O  !  when  the  mother  meets  on  high 

The  babe  she  lost  in  infancy, 

Hath  she  not  then  for  all  her  fears, 

The  anxious  day,  the  watchful  night, 

For  all  her  sorrows,  pains,  and  tears, 

An  over-payment  of  delight  ? 

SOUTMEY. 


263. 


LINES. 


1  Reflected  on  the  lake,  I  love 

To  see  the  stars  of  evening  glow ; 
So  tranquil  in  the  heavens  above, 
So  restless  in  the  wave  below. 


SACKED  POETRY.  361 

Thus  heavenly  hope  is  all  serene, 
But  earthly  hope,  how  bright  soe'er, 

Still  fluctuates  o'er  this  changing  scene, 
As  false  and  fleeting  as  'tis  fair. 

BISHOP  HEEER. 


264.      "  BUT  IT    IS    GOOD    FOR    ME    TO 
DRAW  NEAR  TO  GOD." 


As  when  a  child,  secure  of  harms, 

Hangs  at  the  mother's  breast, 
Safe  folded  in  her  anxious  arms, 

Receiving  food  and  rest : 
And  while  through  many  a  painful  path 

The  travelling  parent  speeds, 
The  fearless  babe,  with  passive  faith, 

Lies  still,  and  yet  proceeds : 


Should  some  short  start  his  quiet  break, 

He  fondly  strives  to  fling 
His  little  arms  about  her  neck, 

And  closer  seems  to  cling. 
Poor  child,  maternal  love  alone, 

Preserves  thee  first  and  last : 
Thy  parent's  arms,  and  not  thine  own, 

Are  those  that  held  thee  fast. 


362  SACRED  POETRY. 

3  So  souls  that  would  to  Jesus  cleave, 

And  hear  his  secret  call, 
Must  ev'ry  fair  pretension  leave, 

And  let  the  Lord  be  all : 
•'  Keep  close  to  me,  thou  helpless  sheep," 

The  Shepherd  softly  cries  ; 
"  Lord,  tell  me  what  'tis  close  to  keep," 

The  listening  sheep  replies. 

4  "  Thy  whole  dependence  on  me  fix : 

Nor  entertain  a  thought, 
Thy  worthless  scheme  with  mine  to  mix, 

But  venture  to  be  nought. 
Fond  self-direction  is  a  shelf; 

Thy  strength  and  wisdom  flee : 
When  thou  art  nothing  in  thyself, 

Thou  then  art  close  to  me." 

HART. 


265.  "  HE  THAT  LOVETH  HIS  BROTHER 
AB1DETH  IN  THE  LIGHT." 

Yes,  love  indeed  is  light  from  heaven ; 
A  spark  of  that  immortal  fire, 
With  angels  shared,  by  Jesus  given, 
To  lift  from  earth  our  low  desire. 
Devotion  wafts  the  mind  above, 
But  heaven  itself  descends  in  love  ; 


SACRED  POETRY.  363 

A  feeling  from  the  Godhead  caught, 
To  wean  from  self  each  sordid  thought ; 
A  ray  of  him  who  form'd  the  whole  ; 
A  glory  circling  round  the  soul ! 


266.    "    THE     LORD     BLESS     THEE, 
AND  KEEP  THEE." 


May  he  who  erst  on  Calvary  bled, 

With  all  his  love,  my  daughter,  bless  thee  ; 

Soft  dews  of  mercy  o'er  thee  shed, 

Sustain  thy  soul  when  woes  oppress  thee  ; 

May  his  unfading  rays  illume 

Life's  wilderness  of  guilt  and  gloom, 

Thy  star  of  hope, — thy  rock  of  faith, — 

Thy  light  in  darkness, — life  in  death. 

Though  clouds  invest  that  awful  throne, 

No  mortal  eye  may  gaze  upon, 

One  kindly  beam  breaks  forth  above, 

One  ray  of  everlasting  love  ! 

On  earth  'tis  but  a  meteor  streaming, 

In  heaven  a  sun  of  glory  beaming. 

The  gauds  of  earth  are  frail  as  fair, 

Fix  then  thy  warm  affections  there ; 

To  him  thy  hopes  immortal  raise, 

And  win  the  love  that  angels  praise. 

DALE. 


364  SACRED  POETRY. 

267-    THOUGHTS    ON    A    DEPARTED 
FRIEND. 

1  Dear  as  thou  wert,  and  justly  dear, 

We  will  not  weep  for  thee ; 
One  thought  shall  check  the  starting  tear, 

It  is  that  thou  art  free. 
And  thus  shall  Faith's  consoling  power 

The  tears  of  love  restrain ; 
Oh  !  who  that  saw  thy  parting  hour, 

Could  wish  thee  here  again  ? 

2  Triumphant  in  thy  closing  eye, 

The  hope  of  glory  shone  ; 
Joy  breath'd  in  thy  expiring  sigh, 

To  think  the  fight  was  won. 
Gently  the  passing  spirit  fled, 

Sustain'd  by  Grace  Divine, — 
Oh !  may  such  grace  on  me  be  shed, 

And  make  my  end  like  thine  ! 

DALE. 


268.    THE  SAINTS  WELCOMING  THEIR 
SAVIOUR  IN  THEIR  JUDGE. 

O  thou,  on  earth  beloved,  adored, 
My  friend,  my  father,  and  my  Lord  ! 


SACRED  POETRY.  365 

I  see  thee  now  without  a  vail, — 
Help  ;  or  my  dazzled  sight  will  faiL 

0  bear  me  to  that  burning  throne, 

1  scarce  can  brook  to  gaze  upon, 
And  give  my  kindling  soul  to  prove 
The  raptures  of  ecstatic  love ; 
And  learn  unutterable  lays 

And  hymn  Thee  in  eternal  praise  ! 
Shrink  like  a  scroll,  thou  frighted  sky ! 
Earth — tremble  into  vacancy !  • 

List  to  the  pealing  trumpet's  swell, 
Ye  hideous  depths  of  death  and  hell, — 
Burst  your  strong  chain,  your  gates  unclose, 
And  break  the  long — the  last  repose. 
Blest  train  of  martyr'd  saints,  arise  ! 
Look  upward  to  your  native  skies  ! 
Arise !  and  claim  your  rich  reward, 
And  share  the  triumphs  of  your  Lord. 
Behold  the  promised  golden  throne, — 
The  conqu'ring  palm, — the  unfading  crown  ! 
And  more  than  all, — that  beaming  eye, 
Whose  glance  is  love  and  ecstasy  ! 
But  lo  !  what  sudden  splendours  beaming, 
O'er  heaven's  illumin'd  arch  are  streaming, 
What  hues  of  varied  beauty  blending, 
What  fair  celestial  towers  descending! — 
O  Salem,  city  of  our  God  ! 
The  saints' — the  martyrs'  blest  abode, — 


366  SACRED  POETRY. 

I  see  thy  gates  of  pearl  unfold, 
I  see  thy  streets  of  burnish'd  gold  ; 
I  see  thy  towers  in  crystal  shine  ! 
Meet  temples  for  a  King  Divine. 
Hail  perfect,  pure  in  virgin  pride, 
The  Mighty  Lamb's  resplendent  bride ! 
Within  thy  hallow'd  courts  are  found, 
No  lurking  cares  to  vex  or  wound  ; 
No  dim  eye  sheds  the  hopeless  tear, 
No  bosom  throbs  with  doubt  or  fear ; 
And  hush'd  is  Shame's  tumultuous  thrill, 
And  Passion's  warring  storm  is  still. 
No  bright  sun  beams  by  day — by  night, 
No  pale  moon  sheds  her  feebler  light, — 
JBut  from  that  throne  of  living  fire, 
Where  sits  reveal'd  th'  eternal  Sire, 
Where  seraphs  raise  their  loudest  strain, 
To  hail  the  Lamb  that  once  was  slain, — 
Tho'  Faith  and  Hope  have  pass'd  away, 
Love  sheds  a  pure  unchanging  ray ; 
What  faintly  shone  on  earth  before, 
Now  beams  and  burns  for  evermore. 

DALE, 


269*  MY  FATHERS  AT  THE  HELM. 

1  'Twas  when  the  sea's  tremendous  roar 
A  little  bark  assail'd  : 


SACRED  POETRY.  367 

And  pallid  fear,  with  awful  power, 
O'er  each  on  board  prevaiPd ; 

2  Save  one,  the  captain's  darling  son, 

Who  fearless  view'd  the  storm, 
And  playful,  with  composure,  smil'd 
At  danger's  threat'ning  form. 

3  "  Why  sporting  thus,"  a  seaman  cried, 

"  Whilst  sorrows  overwhelm  ?  " 
"  Why  yield  to  grief?"  the  boy  replied, 
"  My  father's  at  the  helm." 

4  Despairing  soul !  from  thence  be  taught, 

How  groundless  is  thy  fear ; 
Think    on    what    wonders    Christ    has 
And  he  is  always  near.  [wrought, 

5  Safe  in  His  hands,  whom  seas  obey, 

When  swelling  billows  rise  ; 
Who  turns  the  darkest  night  to  day, 
And  brightens  lowering  skies ; 

6  Though  thy  corruptions  rise  abhorr'd, 

And  outward  foes  increase; 
'Tis  but  for  him  to  speak  the  word, 
And  all  is  hush'd  to  peace. 

7  Then  upward  look,  howe'er  distress'd, 

Jesus  will  guide  thee  home, 
To  that  blest  port  of  endless  rest, 
Where  storms  shall  never  come. 

AND 


368     SACRED  POETRY. 

270.  ON  BEING  CALLED  A  SAINT. 


1  A  saint  !  Oh,  would  that  I  could  claim 
The  privileg'd,  the  honour'd  name, 
And  confidently  take  my  stand, 
Though  lowest  in  the  saintly  band  ! 

2  Would,  though  it  were  in  scorn  applied, 
That  term  the  test  of  truth  could  bide  ! 
Like  kingly  salutations  given, 

In  mockery  to  the  King  of  heaven. 

3  A  saint !  and  what  imports  the  name, 
Thus  banded  in  derision's  game  ; 

"  Holy,  and  separate  from  sin  ; 
"  To  good,  nay  even  to  God  akin." 

4  Is  such  the  meaning  of  the  name, 

From   which   a  Christian    shrinks    with 

shame  ? 
Yes,  dazzled  by  the  glorious  sight, 
He  owns  his  crown  is  all  too  bright. 

5  And  ill  might  son  of  Adam  dare, 
Alone  such  honour's  weight  to  bear ; 
But  fearlessly  he  takes  the  load, 
United  to  the  Son  of  God. 


SACRED  POETRY.  369 

6  A  saint !  oh  !  scorner,  give  some  sign, 
Some  seal  to  prove  the  title  mine, 

And  warmer  thanks  thou  shalt  command, 
Than  bringing  kingdoms  in  thy  hand. 

7  Oh  !  for  an  interest  in  that  name, 
When  hell  shall  ope  its  jaws  of  flame, 
And  sinners  to  their  doom  be  hurl'd, 
While  scorned  saints    "  shall  judge  the 

world." 

8  How  shall  the  name  of  saint  be  prized, 
Tho'  now  neglected  and  despis'd, 
When  truth  shall  witness  to  the  Lord, 
That  none  but    "saints  shall  judge  the 

world." 

MARRIOTT. 


271.  TRUE  CHARITY. 


True  charity,  a  plant  divinely  nurs'd, 
Fed  by  the  love  from  which  it  rose  at  first, 
Thrives  against  hope,  and,  in  the   rudest 

scene, 
Storms  but  enliven  its  unfading  green  : 
Exub'rant  is  the  shadow  it  supplies, 
Its  fruit  on  earth,  its  growth   above    the 

skies. 

2  A 


370 


SACRED  POETRY. 


To  look  at  Him,  who  formed  us  and  re- 
deemed, 
So  glorious  now,  though  once  so  disesteemed, 
To  see  a  God  stretch  forth  his  human  hand, 
To  uphold  the  boundless  scenes  of  his  com- 
mand; 
To  recollect,  that,  in  a  form  like  ours, 
He  bruised   beneath  his  feet  th'  infernal 

powers, 
Captivity  led  captive,  rose  to  claim 
The  wreath  he  won  so  dearly  in  our  name ; 
That,  throned   above   all  height,  he    con- 
descends 
To  call  the  few  that  trust  in  him  his  friends  ; 
That  in  the  Heaven  of  heavens,  that  space 

he  deems 
Too  scanty  for  th'  exertion  of  his  beams, 
And  shines,  as  if  impatient  to  bestow 
Life  and  a  kingdom  upon  worms  below ; 
That  sight  imparts  a  never-dying  flame, 
Though  feeble  in  degree,  in  kind  the  same, 
Like  him  the  soul,  thus  kindled  from  above, 
Spreads  wide  her  arms  of  universal  love; 
And,  still  enlarged  as  she  receives  the  grace, 
Includes  creation  in  her  close  embrace. 

COWPER. 


SACRED  POETRY.  373 


272.  Christ's  second  coming. 


1  The  Lord  shall  come !  the  earth  shall  quake ; 
The  mountains  to  their  centre  shake  ; 
And,  withering  from  the  vaults  of  night, 
The  stars  shall  pale  their  feeble  light. 

2  The  Lord  shall  come !  but  not  the  same 
As  once  in  lowliness  He  came ; 

A  silent  Lamb  before  his  foes, 
A  weary  man,  and  full  of  woes. 

3  The  Lord  shall  come  !  a  dreadful  form, 
With  rainbow  wreath  and  robes  of  storm  ; 
On  cherub-wings,  and  wings  of  wind  ! 
Appointed  Judge  of  ail  mankind. 

4  Can  this  be  He,  who  wont  to  stray- 
As  pilgrim  on  the  world's  highway, 
Oppress'd  by  power,  and  mock'd  by  pride, 
The  Nazarene — the  crucified? 

5  While  sinners  in  despair  shall  call, 
"Rocks,  hide  us  ;  mountains,  on  us  fall 
The  saints,  ascending  from  the  tomb, 
Shall  joyful  sing,  "  The  Lord  is  come  ! 

BISHOP  HEBEB, 


372     SACRED  POETRY. 

273.   CONFIDENCE  IN  GOD. 

1  God  of  my  life,  whose  gracious  power, 

Thro'  varied  deaths  my  soul  hath  led, 
Or  turn'd  aside  the  fatal  hour, 
Or  lifted  up  my  sinking  head  ! 

2  In  all  thy  ways  thy  hand  I  own, 

Thy  ruling  Providence  I  see  : 
Assist  me  still  my  course  to  run, 
And  still  direct  my  paths  to  thee. 

3  Oft  hath  the  sea  confess'd  thy  power, 

And  given  me  back  at  thy  command; 
It  could  not,  Lord,  my  life  devour, 
Safe  in  the  hollow  of  thine  hand. 
4.  Oft  from  the  margin  of  the  grave, 

Thou,  Lord,  hast  lifted  up  my  head  : 
Sudden,  I  found  thee  near  to  save ; 
The  fever  own'd  thy  touch,  and  fled. 

5  Whither,  O  whither  should  I  fly, 

But  to  my  loving  Saviour's  breast ! 
Secure  within  thine  arms  to  lie, 

And  safe  beneath  thy  wings  to  rest. 

6  I  have  no  skill  the  snare  to  shun, 

But  thou,  O  Christ,  my  wisdom  art : 
I  ever  into  ruin  run ; 
But  thou  art  greater  than  my  heart. 


SACRED  POETRY.  373 

7  Foolish,  and  impotent,  and  blind, 

Lead  me  a  way  I  have  not  known  ; 
Bring  me  where  I  my  heaven  may  find, 
The  heaven  of  loving  thee  alone. 

8  Enlarge  my  heart  to  make  thee  room ; 

Enter,  and  in  me  ever  stay  ; 
The  crooked  then  shall  straight  become  ; 
The  darkness  shall  be  lost  in  day. 

WESLEY 


274.  ADVENT  HYMN. 

1  The  chariot !  the  chariot !  its  wheels  roll 

in  fire, 
As  the  Lord  cometh  down  in  the  pomp  of 

his  ire  ; 
Self-moving,  it  drives  on  its  path- way  of 

cloud, 
And   the   heavens   with  the  burthen  of 

Godhead  are  bow'd. 

2  The  glory  !  the   glory  !  around  him  are 

pour'd, 
The  myriads  of  angels  that  wait  on  the 

Lord; 
And  the  glorified  saints,  and  the  martyrs 

are  there, 


374  SACRED  POETRY. 

And  all  who  the  palm-wreaths  of  victory 
wear. 

3  The  trumpet !    the  trumpet !    the  dead 

have  all  heard : 

Lo,  the  depths  of  the  stone-cover'd  mo- 
numents stirr'd  ! 

From  ocean  and  earth,  from  the  south 
pole  and  north, 

Lo,  the  vast  generation  of  ages  come  forth. 

4  The  judgment !  the  judgment !  the  thrones 

are  all  set, 
Where  the  Lamb  and  the  white- vested 

elders  are  met ; 
All  flesh  is  at  once  in  the  sight  of  the 

Lord, 
And  the  doom  of  eternity  hangs  on  his 

word. 

5  Oh  mercy  !  Oh  mercy  !  look  down  from 

above, 

Redeemer,  on  us,  thy  sad  children,  with 
love  ! 

When  beneath  to  their  darkness  the  wick- 
ed are  driven, 

May  our  justified  souls  find  a  welcome  in 
heaven  ! 

REV.  H.  H.  MILMAN. 


SACRED  POETRY.     3*]5 

275.    FOR  THE  SABBATH. 

1  Sweet  is  the  work,  my  God  !  my  King ! 
To  praise  thy  name,  give  thanks,  and  sing! 
To  show  thy  love  by  morning  light, 
And  talk  of  all  thy  truth  at  night. 

2  Sweet  is  the  day  of  sacred  rest ; 

No  earthly  cares  shall  fill  my  breast ; 
Oh  !  may  my  heart  in  tune  be  found, 
Like  David's  harp  of  solemn  sound  ! 

3  My  heart  shall  triumph  in  my  Lord, 
And  bless  his  Works,  and  bless  his  Word 
Thy  worksof  Grace,  howbrightthey  shine! 
How  deep  thy  Counsels,  how  divine  ! 

4  But  I  shall  share  a  glorious  part, 
When  Grace  hath  well  refined  my  heart. 
And  fresh  supplies  of  Joy  are  shed, 
Like  holy  Oil,  to  cheer  my  head. 

5  Sin,  (my  worst  enemy  before,) 
Shall  vex  my  eyes  and  ears  no  more  j 
My  inward  foes  shall  all  be  slain, 
Nor  Satan  break  my  Peace  again. 

C  Then  shall  I  see,  and  hear,  and  know, 
All  I  desird  or  wish'd  below  ; 
And  every  power  find  sweet  employ 
Jn  the  eternal  world  of  Joy. 

WATTS- 


376    SACRED  POETRY. 
276.  THE  SECOND  ADVENT. 

1  Why  then  in  sad  and  wintry  time, " 
Her  heavens  all  dark  with  doubt  and  crime, 
Why  lifts  the  Church  her  drooping  head, 
As  though  her  evil  hour  were  fled  ? 

Is  she  less  wise  than  leaves  of  spring, 
Or  birds  that  cower  with  folded  wing  ? 
What  sees  she  in  this  lowering  sky, 
To  tempt  her  meditative  eye  ? 

2  She  has  a  charm,  a  word  of  fire, 
A  pledge  of  love  that  cannot  tire ; 

By  tempests,  earthquakes,  and  by  wars, 
By  rushing  waves  and  falling  stars, 
By  every  sign  her  Lord  foretold, 
She  sees  the  world  is  waxing  old ; 
And  through  that  last  and  direst  storm, 
Descries  by  faith  her  Saviour's  form. 
3  Not  surer  does  each  tender  gem, 
Set  in  the  fig-tree's  polished  stem, 
Foreshow  the  summer  season  bland, 
Than  these  dread  signs  thy  mighty  hand; 
But  oh !   frail  hearts,  and  spirits,  dark, 
The  season's  flight  unwarn'd  we  mark, 
But  miss  the  Judge  behind  the  door,    ; 
For  all  the  light  of  sacred  lore. 

ANON. 


GENERAL   INDEX. 


Pa?c 

ACCESS,  The  Way  of. Newton  23* 

Advent  Hymn .' Milman  373 

,  The  Second Anon.  3?> 

Adversitv,  Hope  in Cowper  271 

Affliction,  Benefit  of. Fry  145 

,  Comfort  in Cowper    42 

Grant    79 

s  of  God's  People Kelly  311 

Angels,  are  they  not  all  Ministering  Spirits  ? 

Cunningham  345 

,  Man  honoured  above Newton  1?0 

',  Ministry  of.. .: Spenser  195 

's  Visits Kenn  203 

Ascension Anon.     16 

Assyrians,  Destruction  of  the Byron    99 

BABE,  The  Motherless,  to  its  Father E.  M.  346 

Beacon,  'Jhe James  205 

3eliever,  Death  of  a Kelly    51 

Dr.  Huie  162 


,  Safety  of  the Newton 

s,  vveak,  Comforted Toplady  358 

Bethesda,  The  Pool  of Barton  210 

Blessed  be  thy  Name  for  ever Hogg    33 

blindness,  Milton  on  his Milton  2.59 

3oy,  On  a  Sleeping, Sir.  T.E.  Croft  VJ2 

:.AMERONIAN  Midnight  Hymn Hogg     44 

Charity Prior  301 

,  True Coivpcr  368 


378  GENERAL  INDEX. 


Child,  The  Christian  interceding  for  his. ...Anon.  344 

Christ,  Birth  of. Heber    36 

Calling Heber  353 

,  Communion  with Conder  115 

,  Dependance  on Hart    64 

■ ,  Grateful  Remembrance  of Wardlaw  319 

,  Intercession  of. Taylor  249 

,  Longing  to  be  with Cowper    73 

,  Looking  to Cotton  179 

our  Righteousness C.  Wesley  235 

's  Second  Coming Heber  371 

,  Sufferings  of Be  Fleury  126 

■ ,  Suffering  with Guion  154 

■ the  Supreme  Object  of  Desire Newton  266 

Christian,  Death  of  a Edmeston  112 

Heber  219 

Milman  296 

Hemans  332 

in  Prospect  of  death Cowper    23 

The  Dying Toplady    76 

■ ....Montgomery  328 

. Hemans  £32 

,  To  adying Edmeston  1J6 

Anon.  317 

s,  Union  of. Barbauld  188 

Anon.  192 

Cloud,  The  Evening Wilson  187 

Communion  with  Heaven Cowper  194 

Confession, H.Kirke  White     15 

. Anon.    32 

Consolation... Hum  337 

Contentment Cowper  133 

Conversation 232 

Country,  The  Heavenly Gambold  212 

Creation,  Beauties  of  the Heber  148 

Cross,  The Kelly  111 

• ,  Looking  at  the Newton    20 

Crucifixion,  The.., Milman    74 

DEAD,  Blessedness  of  the  Righteous Kelly  103 


GENERAL  INDEX.  S79 

Page 

Death Steele    33 

C.  Wesley  155 

■  Cumberland  264 

,  Certainty  of Cowper    78 

,  Comfort  in  Prospectof Kelly  113 

,  Dark  River  of Edmeston  256 

,  Emblems  of Home  357 

of  a  Christian  Friend Milton  289 

■ of  a  Young  Christian Anon.  163 

ofa  Young  Lady Grahame  3f!2 

Dream,  The Hislop    81 

Dying,  Presence  of  Christ  in C.  Wesley  231 

(The)  Christian  to  his  Soul Pope  330 

EARTHLY  Hope  and  Saving  Faith Anon.  237 

Encouragement Boivdler  321 

Epitaph Anon.    28 

in  Olney  Church  Yard Anon.  288 

Marriot  342 

Evening,  A  Summer Watts  202 

's  Harping Trior  151 

FAITH Kelly  163 

Family  (The)  in  heaven  and  earth Edmeston  307 

Farewell,  The  Christian  Friend's Anon.    14 

Father's,  My,  at  the  helm Anon.  366 

Fountain  opened,  Praise  for  the Cowper    19 

Friends,  a  real  occurrence  in  acircleof...Erfmesfcm  334 

— — —  separated  by  Death Montgomery  267 

Friendship,  Christian Da  Costa    97 

Funeral  Anthem Milman  303 

GLORY,  Anticipation  of  celestial N.  H.  284 

God,  Confidence  in Wesley  372 

is  Love Anon.  136 

E.  M.  244 

,  It  is  good  to  draw  near  to Hart  361 

,  Love  to Anon.  124 

,  Rising  to Gibbons  183 

. .  The  Children  of. Kelly    54 


380  GENERAL  INDEX. 


God  the  Governor  of  Nature Williams  294 

,  the  Grace  of. Fry  107 

262 

,  The  Love  of. Kelly    58 

Dale  191 

,  The  Loving-kindness  of. Medley  314 

,  The  Omnipresence  of. • Guio'n  181 

,  The  Power  of. Raffles    39 

HiKirkeWhite  160 

,  Unchangeableness  of. Wordsworth  194 

,  Walking  with Cowper    88 

Gospel,  Simplicity  of  the 246 

Grace,  Man  restored  by Bowdler  291 

Grave,  The Montgomery  247 

,  Hope  beyond  the Beattie  33.3 

of  a  Christian Edmeston  197 

HAPPINESS Toplady  152 

on S.  193 

Anticipation  of. Taylor  134 

Pursuit  after Cowper    37 

Heart,  The  Stony. Hart  329 

Heaven Swaine    44 

K.  White  199 

Russian  Poetry  295 

,  Ordinances  a  Pledgeof Merrick  326 

Heber,  On  the  Death  of  Bishop Wood  147 

Hebrew  Hymn* Scott    98 

Hiding  Place,  The A".  White    63 

Hart  281 

Hope A.  Watts    47 

Cowper  1T> 

,  Heavenly  and  Earthly Heber  3f>0 

Hymn,  Evening Doddridge    55 

Toplady  109 

,  Missionary Heber  322 

,  New  Year Cowper    25 

26 

Kelly  171 

,  Sabbath  Evening Anon.  306 


GENERAL  INDEX.  381 


Page 

IDOL,  The Anon.  274 

Immortality,  The  Path  to Parnell  207 

Infant,  On  the  Death  of  an Edmeston  214 

Daughter,  On  the  Death  of  an 

Cunningham  182 

,  The  Dying Cecil  130 

Israel,  The  Christian Montgomery  324 

"  It  is  good  to  be  here" Knowles  208 

"  I  will  praise  the  Lord  at  all  times" Cowper    66 

JEHOVAH  Jesus Cowper    17 

Jerusalem,  The  Heavenly Raffles  152 

• —,  The  Saviour  weeping  over Bale    28 

Jew,  Song  of  a  Captive 173 

Jewish  Society Barton  184 

Job's  Complaint Hale  142 

Joy  of  the  Lord  is  our  Strength Newton    18 

Judah,  Captivity  of J.  T.  297 

,  Harp  of.. , L.E.  101 

Judgment,  The  Last Cowper  277 

LAMB  of  God  worshipped Watts    13 

Lambs,"  "Feed my Edmeston  277 

Land,  The  Better Hemans  157 

Last,  The,  Day Milman  240 

Liherty,  Christian Cowper  27!) 

Life,  The  River  of. Anon.  309 

,  Uncertainty  of Cowper    22 

Anon.    29 

Light  arising  out  of  Darkness Bowdler    87 

Litany,  The Grant  343 

Longing  to  depart Be  Fleury    71 

"  Lord  save  or  we  perish" Heber  35<> 

Lord,  The,  will  provide Newton  272 

Love,  Advantages  of  Brotherly Anon.  362 

never  faileth Southey  359 

"  Lo  we  have  left  all  and  followed  thee" G.  139 

MARTYN,  Lines  on  Henry T.  M'C.  221 

Martyr,  The  Glorified J*  T.  280 


382  GENERAL   INDEX. 

Martyr,  The,  to  his  Apostate  Judge Dale    45 

Mercy , Toplady  245 

Midnight Kenn  35J 

■ Meditation Noel  17i) 

Minister,  on  the  death  of  an  Aged... Montgomery  34> 

Minstrel,  The  Heavenly Edmeston    5.' 

Mother's,  A,  Grief Dale  338 

Mounts,  The  Three Montgomery  228 

Mourning,  On,  for  Friends Knox  200 

NATIVITY,  The . Campbell  104 

' • Milman  225 

Nature Montgomery  260 

"Not  lost,  but  gone  before" Anon.  177 

"  O  LORD,  I  know  that  in  very  faithfulness 

thou  hast  afflicted  me" Anon.  300 

Orphan,  The Grahame  129 

PARENTS,  Love  to Noel    31 

Patience Anon.  268 

Patriarch,  The  Aged Hemans  166 

1  Peter,  v.  7 Marriott  339 

Pilgrim,  The  Christian Crabbe  255 

ofZion J.  T.  275 

's  (The)  Song Anon.  318 

Pleasure  not  found  in  the  World Dale  218 

,  Transitory  Nature  of  Earthly.. S.  Wesley  293 

Praise , Pollok  229 

Prayer Montgomery    59 

Cowper  305 

"  Pray  without  ceasing" Hart  310 

Providence Cowper  149 

RACHEL  weeping  for  her  Children Heber  224 

Knox  269 

Rainbow,  The Campbell  315 

Redeemed,  The,  in  heaven Wesley  167 

Religion Montgomery    93 

Repentance Doddridge  116 


GENERAL   INDEX.  38$ 


Page 

Resignation Edmeston    23 

— Noel   50 

————— Young    85 

R.  P.    80 

-     ■ Mrs.  Cowper  135 

Rest  in  Believing E.  M.  253 

,  The  Heavenly Wesley    41 

— — — — — r— —  Anon.    61 

Resurrection,  Hope  in  the Anon.    24 

K.  White  236 

Retirement Cowper    91 

Retrospection Noel    92 

Reverie,  The Conder  117 

Ring  Dove,  Lines  to  the E.  M.  290 

Rock,  The,  of  Ages ,..,...Toplady  106 

SABBATH,  The Deddridge  223 

Watts  375 

Morning Cunningham  122 

1  Evening Edmeston  123 

Saint,  On  being  called  a Marriot  368 

s,  Communion  with Anon.  296 

welcoming  their  Saviour  in  their  Judge 

Dale  364 

Saviour,  Righteousness  of  the Anon.  312 

"  Say  ye  to  the  Righteous,  it  shall  be  well  with 

him" Harvey    62 

Scriptures,  The Kelly    49 

- — ,  Value  of  the Cowper  128 

Sickness Hart    34 

....Toplady  69 

Edmeston  283 

,  Recovery  from Grahame  2/0 

Soul,  Immortality  of  the Fry  141 

,  The  entire  Surrender  of  the Guion  357 

,  The,  thirsting  after  God Lowth  350 

Spirit,  Prayer  for  the  Holy Anon.  320 

,  The  Parting Edmeston  189 

Star  of  Bethlehem. K.  White    67 

,  The  Morning Semplt  308 


384  GENERAL  INDEX. 


Page 

Submission Swaine    35 

Sunset  and  Sunrise Cotvper  342 

TEMPLE,  The  Heavenly Logan  175 

""emptation Cowper  347 

"  The  Lord  bless  thee  and  keep  thee" Dale  363 

"  This  do  in  Remembrance  of  me" Noel    85 

Thoughts  on  a  Departed  Frjend Dale  304 

Thunder Montgomery  239 

■ Storm Rus.  Poetry  242 

"Thy  Brother  shall  rise  again" Anon.  204 

Time,  Lapseof Anon.  201 

Vanity  of  Worldly  Pleasures More  114 

of  Human  Wishes Johnson  331 

Victory  over  Death  and  the  World Malan  158 

Voice,  The  still  small M'Comb    95 

WARNING Edmeston  146 

Weep  not  for  me Dale  341 

Welcome  to  Christian  Friends Newton    48 

"  We  wept  when  we  remembered  Zion"....  Byron  103 

Wife,  Upon  the  Death  of  a Palmerston  287 

Wisdom H.  More  283 

World,  Renouncing  the Taylor  252 

,  Vanity  of  the Steele    68 

Worship,  Family K.  White    65 

YOUNG,  Invitation  to  the Doddridge    41 

Youth  and  Age A Waller  264 

ZION  comforted Grant  257 

FINIS. 


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Niddry  Street. 


